


Meet Me On The Rooftop

by Ocean_Park_Avenue



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mental Abuse, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader Needs a Hug, Reader will be 18 before smut happens, Sexual Abuse, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends, Suicidal Thoughts, Touch-Starved, Underage - Freeform, Verbal Abuse, mostly angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2019-10-19 18:49:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17606936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ocean_Park_Avenue/pseuds/Ocean_Park_Avenue
Summary: You had always believed you were alone. Your whole life had proof to show. You had no hope of anything because of your abusive stepfather.One day, you met a man who seemed to be having the same problem.But through good and bad times, he always seemed to be the light at the end of your tunnel. The solution to your problem.What you didn’t know, was that he thought about you the same way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT: please read the tags before proceeding! Thank you and I hope u like it!

 

 

_The air was crisp that night, the cool early spring air nipping at your cheeks. You looked up at the starry night sky, tears streaming down your face. They turned cold in an instant due to the cool wind that whipped your hair every which way._

_Why? Why did bad things always happen to you?_

_Your vision was blurry as you looked back to the ground of the rooftop. The rooftop. Your rooftop, your safe haven, the only place you ever felt welcome. The darkness always called to you, but you never answered back. You learned to not trust the darkness, nor trust anyone. Even though the rooftop welcomed you with each and every visit, you were still alone. Alone in a world full of billions of people. How ironic. Your laugh had no humour in it_.

 

_You wiped your cold tears from your cheeks as you stood up. You walked to the edge of the rooftop and started screaming, sobbing out of control. You didn’t care if anyone heard. You had to let it out. Let it all out. All the repressed emotions and feelings. Your new hot tears soon began to turn cold again. You didn’t care. You didn’t care if he came up here right now and demanded you come back. You wouldn’t. And if you had to... You glanced over the edge. Tiny cars and people passed by, all scurrying to where they had to be._

 

_You backed away quickly as you shook your head. You began to sob again, your crying muffled by the sleeve of your jacket. You couldn’t. You were too much of a wuss to do anything like that. So instead, you went back to sit on the rooftop floor and cry until nothing else could come out._

_Why? Why? Why?_

 

*

 

_One year later..._

The loud obnoxious bell rang through the school, signalling the end of another boring day. You sighed, gathering your things as you put your earphones in.

 

You heard the teacher call your name before you could put them in though. You sighed again. Turning, you walked over to Ms. Reeves, the art teacher. _  
_

“Yes?” You asked in the nicest voice you could muster.

 

“I need to talk with you about the art piece you handed in for your assignment. The assignment was to draw a collage of all the things you loved, but all you drew was you staring up into a starry sky. And although you're a very skilled artist and it _is_ a beautiful piece _,_ could you please give me any reason as to why you drew this?” She asked.

 

Ms. Reeves had always been kind, for all of the almost four years you’d been going to this hell of a school. She had kind eyes and the type of smile that would make anyone want to smile back. She had become the only thing to look forward to as you walked to school, besides the bliss of school ending. She quickly took in interest in you when you handed in your first assignment. She would always praise your work, even show the class sometimes but they would all collectively roll their eyes (you weren’t the most social person). It would help you feel appreciated for a moment, though.

 

“I like the night,” you replied. “I just-- I don’t know. It’s comforting, that’s all.”

 

Ms. Reeves hummed, her dark brown eyes darting all over the drawing. “Okay, then.”

 

“Is that all?” You asked, slowly walking back towards the door.

 

“Oh, yes-- Wait! I almost forgot to ask you about the field trip.” You froze. “Did you get a parent or guardian to sign your permission slip?”

 

There it was. The reason you dreaded coming up to her in the first place. Next week, your art class was going on a trip MOMA. You had been really excited to go. You hadn’t been there since... you didn’t finish the thought. Though, you knew you couldn’t go, because of _him_. He would never let you go because he hated when you went past your curfew, which was stupidly 5 pm. For Christ’s sake, you were almost 18! When you had pleaded with him to change it to a later time, you ended up going to bed sore that night, due to all the bruises. You still shivered at the memory. So there was no way in hell you were going to ask him to go on a field trip that would have you home at 7 pm.

 

“I... can’t, Ms. Reeves. I’m busy that night. My stepfather... is expecting guests that day that he hasn’t seen in a few years and he wants me to meet them.” You weren’t surprised at how quickly you made up that lie, and how Ms. Reeves --like everyone else-- believed them.

 

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. Well, maybe next time.” She said, sounding saddened.

 

You walked back towards the classroom door. “Yeah, maybe next time.” _More like never._ “Have a good day, Ms. Reeves.”

 

“You, too.” She gave you a heartfelt smile. You smiled back before turning and headed out the door.

 

 

 

 

When you got home, you glanced around the small apartment to see _him_ sitting on the couch, watching some game as he drank beer. You tried to sneak past him to your room, but he stopped you and you almost jumped.

 

“How was school?” Your stepfather, Brian, asked without looking away from the TV.

 

You tired to keep your voice as monotone as possible. “Fine.” You continued to your room. He stopped you, again.

 

“One of your teachers called today.” He said and you flinched.

 

“Wh–which one?” _Goddamnit, don’t stutter!_

 

“The art one.” He replied calmly, which you found very unnerving. “She told me how great of a student you are and that you should go on the trip to MOMA.”

 

“ _What--"_ You cleared your throat. “What did you say?” _  
_

“I told her ‘no’. And when she asked why I said it was none of her goddamn business.” He turned his head to you, his eyebrows low as his brown eyes narrowed. “What did  _you_ say?”

You clutched your backpack and swallowed. “I-I said that I was busy that day. That... that you had guests coming over.”

 

He stood up from the couch, took a swig from his bottle, then put it down on the coffee table. He walked around the couch to end up standing in front of you, the distance too close for comfort. You leaned back but didn’t move your footing.

 

“Did she believe it?” He asked, and you could smell the disgusting scent of his breath mixed with the smell of beer.

 

You stood there, breathing rapidly for a couple of seconds before your stepfather barked out through gritted teeth. “ _Speak_.”

“Yeah- yes. Yes, sh-she believed it.” You managed to squeak out.

 

He moved his hand to cup your cheek and he gave a warm smile that was filled with malicious intent. You flinched when his callused hand rub over your skin. “Good.” Then his smile turned to a frown and he slapped you. “Next time, tell your nosy ass teacher to mind her own fucking business or we’re gonna have a problem.” Then he walked back over to the couch, plopped himself down, and began drinking his beer, again.

 

You immediately walked to your room, your eyes wet due to the tears that were forming. You quietly closed the door, careful not to make any noise, then locked it. You took off your bag, leaned against the door, and slowly slip down to have your knees to your chest. Then you cried, silent tears. You didn’t want that _monster_ to hear you, to think that he had won. No, he hadn’t won the war, but he sure did win every battle the two of you had. You looked at the clock above your bed. It read 4:15 pm. In a few hours, Brian would be knocked out cold because of his lightweight tolerance to beer. So, you waited and worked on your homework as you tried not to think about the bad things. You were about to be happy in a few hours, after all. 

 

You kept waiting. You waited until you could hear that loud snoring of your stepfather. You began by put on your jacket, hat and scarf since it was only the beginning of spring. You gathered your phone, earphones and sketching supplies into a bag before opening the door to your room, trying to be quiet. It still squeaked. All the lights were off as you snuck to the front door and put your shoes on. Grabbing the spare key form the hook on the wall, you locked the door and made your way to the staircase. Up, up and up you went until you reached the places you longed to be, the only place where you could feel a shred of happiness for just a few hours each day. The apartment rooftop.

 

The rooftop was like any other in the city. Though what this one had that the others didn’t was the perfect view of the sky. It was the perfect spot for stargazing, something you did to pass the time up here when you didn’t want to draw. You always found the darkness of space calming. Ever since you were introduced to your stepfather actually.

 

Though, when you got to the rooftop, something felt off. The atmosphere felt sad and dreary when it usually felt calm and inviting. Your brows furrowed as you tried to search for what was setting off the atmosphere. You looked around until you saw the source of the problem. Standing dangerously close to the edge of the building that overlooked the city, was a man, leaning on the railing, which was the only thing keeping him from falling to certain death. His silhouette was slouched as he looked over the edge. _Was he going to...?_

 

You don’t know what compelled you to ask, nor why you felt pity for this complete stranger who you knew nothing about. But, you still asked it anyway. “Are you gonna do it?”

 

The man visibly tensed when he heard you. He turned his head look at you for a moment before turning back to look at the streets below. He sighed deeply. “No.” He said plainly, with a very low voice you could barely hear it. “I’m not. I’m too much of a coward too.” He gritted his teeth at the word ‘coward’.

 

Instead of leaving this poor man alone, you decided to take a few steps closer. He just glanced over his shoulder again.

 

“Not doing it doesn’t mean you're a coward. It just means your not ready yet.” You spoke softly.

 

He sighed again and let out a humourless chuckle.

 

“What would you know?”

 

Your brows narrowed and you took a couple of steps closer to him, still a few metres away. “Because I’ve thought about it, too.”

 

The man stayed quiet.

 

“At first I thought I was a coward for not doing, too. But then I realized, if the universe wanted me to die, it would’ve killed me already.”

 

“Then...” he started. “What are you supposed to do until the universe decides what to do with you?”

 

You took the final steps and stood next to him. “Just... wait, I guess.”

 

You looked up to his face that was coated with moonlight. He was actually quite handsome. With a hard jawline covered in stubble, brilliant cerulean eyes that were filled with sadness and despair, and shoulder-length chestnut hair that blew in the wind under his red baseball cap.

 

When he looked to you for a second, you both looked away quickly. _Way to make it awkward by staring at him. God, why am I so weird?_

 

He stood up fully, his broad chest rising slowly. Then he turned to leave. You watched him curiously as he walked towards the staircase door. Before he was halfway, he glanced over his shoulder at you and nodded. “Thank you.” Then he disappeared down the stairs.

 

And for the next few hours that you were on the rooftop, you thought about the mysteriously handsome man and how you may have had saved his life.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I got anything wrong about the suicide thing. I’ve never written anything like this before. If I have anything wrong, fell free to correct me in the comments.
> 
> Leave a comment and tell me whatcha think!


	2. Chapter 2

 

It had been three days since you saw the mysterious man from the rooftop. He hadn’t been there the times you’d visited in the last few days. You wondered where he could be, or what he was doing. Hopefully nothing near the edge of a building.

 

As you sat in the cafeteria, you continued to think about the man, eating your lunch in silence since your phone had broke. _Stupid cheap-ass Brian not getting me a case._

 

That is, until you started to hear the whispering.

 

_“She’s so weird, I bet she’s still a virgin.”_

_“Not even! I bet she hasn’t even kissed someone.”_

_“Y’know, I heard that in middle school, she got into a fight with this boy who said a ‘your mama’ joke to her. She ended up getting suspended and being dragged out of the school by her dad.”_

 

It _was_ true, what they were saying. But left out the major details of the story. At the time, your mother had died a week ago, due to a car crash. And your stupid stepfather wouldn’t let you stay home from school and grief. Though, there had been some people at school who had heard what happened and had given you hugs and said things like ‘It’s gonna be okay’, there were also other people who had made fun of you. Like, Caleb. When you were peaceful eating lunch by yourself, Caleb had come over and plopped his skinny ass next to you. “Yo, mamma is so ugly when she tried to join an ugly contest they said, ‘Sorry, no professionals,’” is what he had said and you snapped. It was mostly because that’s when your stepfather had started to hit you from time to time. So, you followed in his footsteps and beat the shit out of Caleb. He had to go to the emergency room after, and all you got was a one-week suspension and a taste of what other beatings your stepfather had up his sleeve.

 

_“Hopefully, her dad beat some sense into her.”_ One said and they all laughed.

 

_What the fuck did this bitch just say?_ You stood up violently from your chair which scratched against the tile floor and marched over to the whispering table.

 

You slammed your palms on the table and glared at all of them. “Who fucking said it?” Some looked at you perplexed, some with hate, and some couldn’t look because of guilt.

 

“ _Who!_ ” You said louder.

 

One bitch, Maria DeSanta, stood up and said, “Me, bitch.” You glared daggers at her. “What are _you_ gonna do about it?”

 

You immediately pounced on her, making her back hit the hard floor as you sat on top of her. You could hear the students in the background surround you. You punched her and the students ooh’d. And again. Maria punched you back, making you fall off her. This time she was the one who was on top of you. She tried to throw a punch, which you blocked with ease. You grabbed both her wrists, as both of her hands were dangerously close to scratching your face. With a growl on your lip, you spat in her face. Maria immediately said ‘Ew!’ and backed her face away quickly to wipe it. You used the opportunity to get her on the ground again. And just as you were about to throw a fist, someone grabbed your arm and hoisted you onto your feet. You turned to see Mr. Riso, with a nasty look on his face as he dragged you out of the cafeteria. And as soon as you were out, the lecturing began.

 

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” He snarled. When he noticed you weren’t looking at him, he called your name and continued. “How many times do I need to tell you to stop getting into trouble? Last month you were yelling at a student,” _Mason Smith, the jackass who had called me a cunt._ “Then last week you threatened to kill someone,” _Karen Dianthus, who had publicly humiliated me by taking all of my clothes in gym, leaving me naked and crying in a stall ‘til Brian came to yell at me._ “And now this!? You're lucky you don’t expelled!”

 

You scoffed. Did any of those students get any punishments? No! Because all the teachers thought they angels and you were just a poor troublemaker.

 

“You're going straight to Principal Jones! Hopefully, she’ll be able to knock some sense into you.” Mr. Riso said.

 

Principal Jones? You groaned. That bitch always sided with the ‘angelic’ kids, never listening to both sides of the story. Hopefully, this _did_ end with you getting expelled.

 

 

 

 

“How many times do you think have you been in this office this year?” Mrs. Jones, the Principal, asked.

 

“I don’t know—“

 

“11. That’s the most any student has been in here.” She sighed. “I’m not going to expel you, do you know that?”

 

That was surprising. “Why?”

 

“Because usually, if a student misbehaves this much, it’s due to problems at home.” Your eyes widened at her statement. “But what I am going to is give you a week’s detention. And call your father.”

 

Your eyes widened more as you began to plead. “What! No, no, no. _Please_ don’t call him! There’s gotta be another way.”

 

All of the other times you’d gotten in trouble, the school had just given you detention, and for some reason that you were grateful for, never called your stepfather. This must’ve been the last straw for them because you did _not_ want them to call Brian.

 

“Please! Could I just be expelled?”

 

“I’m sorry, that is not an option. I’ll have to call your father—“

 

“ _Stepfather_.” You corrected.

 

“I’ll have to call your stepfather and tell him what happened. If he is not busy, I’ll tell him to come and pick you up.”

 

Your stepfather picking you had to be the worst thing in the world, especially since he’d be pissed after hearing what you did. But you didn’t say anything to Mrs. Jones, in fear she might suspect something was wrong. Brian has told you that if anyone ever asked about home, he would do much worse than any normal beating. That shut you right up. So, you sat there, as Mrs. Jones called him and you tried not to let your tears fall.

 

 

 

 

You walked out of the school, clutching your backpack as you slouched to the truck. Your stepfather hit you lightly as he waved goodbye to Mrs. Jones, who was waving back as she watched from the front doors of the school. “Stop slouching.” He whispered roughly in your ear.

 

Once Mrs. Jones went back inside and you were both in the truck, surprising he didn’t yell at you. You didn’t say anything as you suspected he’d save it for when you got home.

 

You were right, because as soon as your stepfather closed the door to the apartment, and you had taken off your backpack, he grabbed the back of your shirt, pulling you to the floor.

 

“Who the hell do you think you are!? Beating up some girl just ‘cause she said a few nasty words to ya. Now I gotta deal with this shit because of you! It’s all your fault, actually. I knew I should’ve beaten it in into that thick head of yers.” As he yelled, you gradually were back up towards your room. He noticed.

 

“Oh, don’t think yer gonna get away with this easily.” He trudged toward you and you scurried to your room. As you tried to close the door, he pushed himself against it, sending you to the floor due to the force.

 

“Do you know how much of a burden you are? Always fucking getting into trouble. So, what? Nobody loves you! But then you go off and cause trouble just to get some fucking attention on you. Well, now you have it, and mine is the worst kind.” He then unbuckled his belt, took it off of his hips, and raised to the air.

 

 

 

 

You felt dead, inside and out, as you laid on your hard mattress. You already knew you were bleeding, you could feel it seeping onto the bed. You didn’t dare move. You couldn’t actually, it hurt too much. You knew he’d already left for the bar. You’d been lying here for hours already and he usually was out by 6 pm. It was normal for him to return at 12 am or if you were lucky, the next morning.

 

As you laid there crying, you felt an urge to go to the rooftop. It always gave you temporary happiness when you were up there. Slowly, you lifted yourself from the bed and walked to the bathroom. You almost gagged at what you saw in the mirror. Bruises lined your neck and face, as well as a gash that messily went across your forehead. You started to cry again. After fixing up the large cut with some bandages and taking some pain killers, you put on your jacket and scarf and headed for the rooftop.

 

The sun was setting when you got there. The orange glow of the sunset shining on your face, illuminating the dry tears on your cheeks. You went to lean on the railing facing it. And there, you began to cry again.

 

You cried up to the sky. Was there a reason this happened to you? Was someone punishing you? If they were, for what? What was the reason? You never did get an answer. Though, you did get some surprising company.

 

 

 

 

 

You’d been crying so long. The sun was down, replaced by the starry night. Your tears had run out, and your throat hurt because of it. Another reason you’d stopped was because standing in front of you, was the man you’d seen from three nights ago. He was wearing the same hat and jacket as last time. The new thing you noticed was the black leather glove he only wore on one hand; his left.

 

He had come through the door to see you crouched behind the patio furniture, sniffing. His eyes looked down at you with curiosity and concern. You looked away quickly when you realized he could see the blotched bruises on your face and the ungodly looking cut that went across your forehead.

 

The air was thick with tension until he spoke. “Umm, are you... okay?”

 

You sunk into your knees, trying to avoid as much eye contact as possible. He took that as a sign to stay where he was. And after a few seconds, he sighed and left. When the door was fully closed, a teary sigh left your lips.

 

What you weren’t expecting was him coming back. Like, who wants to see the same crying girl in one day? He came up to you and held out something, saying, “Here.”

 

You looked up. In his non-gloved hand was an old iPod Nano that had to be about five years out of season. It also had earphones.

 

He shook his hand, signalling for you to take it. Reluctantly, you did.

 

“There’s music on it.” He said as he walked back towards the door.

 

Confused, you started with, ”Wait, but—“

 

He interrupted. “Music makes me feel better.” He said with a hand on the door. “Maybe it’ll help you feel better, too.” Then he actually left.

 

Still confused, you didn’t follow him but flipped the iPod in your hands. You turned it on and sure enough, there were more than a thousand songs on it. So, there you sat, listening to the sad and happy songs the iPod had to offer. The man turned out to be right: the music did help you feel better, just a bit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment! I always appreciate them


	3. Chapter 3

 

You were thankful your stepfather hadn’t woken up yet. If so, your morning would’ve been hell. Since you didn’t want to have another teacher bitching because of how late you were all the time, you got up early this morning. Thank God Brian was hungover from last night’s drunken chaos.

 

He had come home at around 2 am. How do you know? It’s because his drunk ass decided to wake you by knocking loudly at your door in the middle of the night. He had called your name and even kicked the door, trying to get you to come out. When you didn’t, he began yelling about ‘how worthless you are and how no one will ever love you’. You tried to ignore all of it but it was no use. He was so loud. After an hour of drunken swearing and insults, he had gone to bed. And you tried your hardest not to cry about his words.

 

You ran out the door, almost forgetting to close it as you ran to the elevator.

 

“Hold it, please!” You yelled to the person inside the elevator. They put their arm out to stop it as you slipped in. The door closed, and you looked to your elevator saviour. You recognized him to be the man from the rooftop.

 

“Thank you for holding the door.” You said.

 

“You’re welcome.” He said looking straight as the door closed. He didn’t say anything else, resulting in silence. This gave you time to think.

 

You wonder who he was, why he was so mysterious. You still had questions about the first time you met him. What had driven him to the edge? Or who? Maybe a cheating lover, or a scarred past. So, to start somewhere, you started a conversation.

 

“You’re the guy from the rooftop, right?” He didn’t answer but grunted. “Well, I wanted to say thank you for the iPod. It... it really helped me.”

 

“Your welcome.”

 

Another awkward silence. After a while, you sighed and introduced yourself, sticking your hand out.

 

The man looked at you, then your hand. Fortunately, he took it in his and shook.

 

“James.” He said, his expression not changing.

 

Just then, the elevator doors opened and you both stepped outside.

 

“Nice meeting you, James.” You waved him off with a smile as you head out the main doors of the building. Maybe today wouldn’t be as bad as you thought.

 

 

 

 

 

You had lied to yourself and you hated it.  _Good day, my ass._ You had been stupid to think that today wouldn’t be that bad of a day. It never was.  _  
_

 

“How many fucking times do I need to tell you!? Put the goddamn cream cheese away properly!”

 

This stupid argument had driven your hopeful attitude into the ground, to the center of the Earth, where it burned in the hot, molten core.

 

“You wipe the excess cream cheese on the bread, not the container! Not put the crumb infested thing back in it! God, you can’t do anything for shit. No wonder you can’t get a job. You have no common sense.”

 

Your stepfather had been ranting for the past 15 minutes about the proper way to put away cream cheese. All the while, you tried not to cry. Though, you finally marched away when he began to mention your mother and ‘how disappointed she would be to see the woman you’ve become’. You just wanted to punch him in his arrogant face. But, you had kept your cool and been the bigger person. Of course, he had asked you where you were stomping off to but you ignored him. He didn’t need to know shit.

 

So, now you were stomping up the stairs to the rooftop to get some peace and quiet of once. But your plans changed when you saw James.

 

He was at the edge of the building, gripping the railing so hard you thought it would compress under the pressure. His body looked ridged and tense under his leather jacket. Your worried self called out to him.

 

“James?”

 

He whipped his head around and you could see the anger in his eyes, though his baseball cap covered them a bit. He grunted and turned back to face the night sky. “Go away.” He mumbled.

 

You, being very stubborn, walked closer to him. “Are you okay?”

 

“I said go away.” He said through gritted teeth, not looking your way.

 

“I’m just worried. You look really tense. Do you wanna talk? Not about whatever you're mad at, but just... talk.”

 

For a few moments, he stared off into the distance, his breathing ragged. Then, he exhaled deeply and took his hands off the railing. “Sure.” He said looking at you, though there was no smile on his face.

 

You both sat down in a chair. Since you proposed the idea of talking, you did the most of it. You talked about your experience in New York and about how shit school was. Then your conversation veered into the subject of night. You went on about how much you love the nighttime. James interrupted.

 

“Why do you like the night so much?”

 

“Oh, uh, cause it’s a great time to watch movies. Wait, I already said that.” James chuckled. It was the cutest thing since all you saw the man do was sit next to you, silent and brooding.

 

“Truthfully, I love the nighttime because, in the day, we have all these responsibilities and reality to deal with. But, for the few hours the night gives, those responsibilities disappear. I feel relaxed when I don’t have to stress over everything. It’s like a little break. And sleep is even better because that’s when your brain takes you away to your dreams that are filled with everything you love.”

 

“To be honest, I hate the night.” James admitted.

 

“Oh. Why?”

 

“Because that’s when I feel the most vulnerable.”

 

You were quiet as his response sank in. “Well, I don’t completely trust the night, but I do find it comforting.”

 

“I guess your right.”

 

“Why don’t you like the night?”

 

James’ eyes narrowed at your question.

 

“Okay.” You chuckled. “Let me rephrase: why do you like the daytime?”

 

For the next few minutes, James went on about how much more he preferred the light to the night. As he did, all the sleepless nights from before started catching up to you. You began to fall asleep, James’ soothing voice like a poem mixed with a lullaby.

 

 

 

 

The next morning, you woke up for a brief moment to find the sky was still dark as James sat beside you, sleeping. His breathing was calm as his broad chest rose up and down in rhythm to his inhales and exhales. He looked so much more peaceful sleeping. You smiled to yourself, happy that you were able to take his mind off of whatever had him so angry in the first place. 

 

 

 

 

You woke again a few hours later to see the sun was already done rising. You yawned and stretched. You looked around. James was nowhere to be found. It saddened you for a moment. You took the old iPod out of your jacket pocket and looked at the time. 

 

8:12 am! If you didn’t get moving, you’d be late for school! You frantically scrambled to your feet and rushed out the rooftop door and down to your apartment to get ready, your mind racing about how mad your stepfather would be after you return for school. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

 

Bucky couldn’t believe it. As he walked down the busy streets of New York, walking the dogs he’d been paid to walk, he couldn’t believe it. Bucky couldn’t believe that he hadn’t had a nightmare last night.

 

One of the dogs stepped out of line to sniff a passing dog, so Bucky yanked on his collar, bringing him back to the pack.

 

He couldn’t believe, not one bit, that nothing had interrupted his sleep. For once, in all of the time he’d been free of HYDRA’s wrath, he hadn’t had a nightmare.

 

It was usually a daily occurrence for Bucky. He dreaded when his head hit the pillow every night. But, sadly, he had to sleep. A few times he had tried staying up for days, just to not have to deal with the constant terrors that filled his head when he slept. He stayed awake for 84 hours before he fell unconscious due to lack of sleep. When he’d awoken, the dried blood dripping down his head was enough of a hint to make him never attempt it again.

 

Now, he just dealt with them. Every night. Not one night went by without him waking up in a cold sweat, his breathing heavy. He’d look around his apartment to see there was no HYDRA anymore. That he was free. It usually took him an hour to fall back asleep, where another nightmare awaited. Ready to scare him awake again.

 

But last night was different. Last night, as he talked to you while you fell asleep, he fell asleep with you. And when he woke to you still there, he realized that nothing had happened.

 

Nothing.

 

No nightmare. No dream. No thrashing in his sleep. No awful picture carved into his head.

 

_Nothing._

 

When he had realized all that, for once in all of his 70 years of being HYDRA’s soldier, he smiled. For once, he felt relief. He felt bliss. He felt... happy. Content, even. He felt happy because nothing horrific happened in his dreams. Actually, nothing happened in them. Just darkness. That time he actually welcomed it. He actually enjoyed sleeping. Now he realized why you liked sleeping so much.

 

He had looked over to you when he realized it. You. He slept next to you and had no nightmare.

 

When he first met you, he had thought the universe sent you to play a cruel trick on him. To not let him have the pleasure of ending the pain he felt. But after their encounter, he realized that what you had said had some weight.

 

_“If the universe wanted me to die, it would’ve killed me already,”_  is what you had said, talking about yourself. Bucky wondered what pains had led her to knock on Death’s door.

 

He remembered staying up till morning thinking about what you said. He wondered why the universe wasn’t ready? Wondered why he was still here? Wondered what was he supposed to fulfil before his death? Then he reminded himself that it never answered back and he went back to sleep (to be awoken by a nightmare the next morning).

 

Now, as he finished walking the dogs and got paid, he had no idea what to think. Maybe you had the right idea.  _“Just wait”_. Bucky sighed. If that was the case, he’d have to push his inpatient thoughts to the side and... just wait.

 

 

 

 

It was around 6:30 pm when the yelling and screaming had started. Bucky had recognized the screaming to match your voice, though he didn’t know who was yelling. The yelling had been going on for 10 minutes now. Everything being said was inaudible through the thick walls of the old apartment. He would’ve thought the walls of this place were thin, but apparently they were thick because of all the insulation and the rats that were living inside it. He knew this because one day he had become so pissed that he punched a hole in the wall and a few rats came scattered out. No wonder this place had been so cheap for rent.

 

The arguing continued for a few minutes before Bucky heard something shatter, then a loud “Fuck!”, that sounded male. There were a few moments of silence before he heard someone stomp off into the hall. What had just happened?

 

Bucky knew it was none of his business but something in his gut told him something wasn’t right. With a sigh, he stood up and walked out the door, not before putting on his glove and cap.

 

He looked to the door next to his, it was pushed open slightly. Bucky pushed it open to reveal you, laying on the ground. There was blood dripping down the side of your face and onto the floor. Next to you lied a broken lamp. He took a wild guess about what happened.

 

In an instant, he rushed to your side to also discover the bruises that lined your neck and down your chest. He called your name frantically as he shook you lightly. You only responded with a soft groan.

 

Immediately, he ran over to his apartment and grabbed his first aid kit. When he came back, he saw, your head moving, as if you were looking around. Bucky placed the first aid kit beside him, now kneeling, as he put your head into his lap. He called your name again and your eyes fluttered open.

 

“James?” You asked, barely above a whisper.

 

“Hey. You gotta stay with me. No falling back asleep.” Bucky said gathering the gauze and medical tape. He moved your hair to see the large cut on the side of your temple, which was starting to bleed again. Quickly, he put a huge chunk of gauze on it and pressed lightly.

 

“I don’t think I can stay awake.” You said quietly.

 

“No, no, no. You have too. Stay awake and... think of the people who love you.” Bucky replaced the now bloody gauze with new ones.

 

 

“No one loves me...” You said softly.

 

That hit him right in the heart.

 

“Okay, uh. Then stay awake for me. You’ll be able to help me through a lot of my problems if you're alive.”

 

You slowly nodded and Bucky wrapped the cut with more dried gauze before securing it with medical tape. He lifted you off his lap and grabbed a pillow off the couch to rest your head on. He noticed his jeans had blood on them from your seeping cut on them, but he didn’t care.

 

He looked you over for any other cuts. You didn’t have anything to be worked up over, except for the few bruises that lined your body. Your breathing was calm and steady as you gazed up at Bucky.

 

He knelt beside you, his eyebrows furrowed. “What happened?”

 

“I...” You started. “I... fell. Tripped. Onto the lamp. It broke.” You let out a humourless chuckle. “It’s my fault.”

 

Why were you saying it was your fault when he had clearly heard someone throw it across the room?

 

“Are you sure? ‘Cause what I heard didn’t sound like—“

 

“You don’t have to worry. It won’t happen again.”

 

It was clear you didn’t want to talk about it. He sighed and nodded. “Okay.”

 

 

 

 

Bucky left shortly after. You said that your stepfather would be returning home soon and him seeing Bucky there would just complicate things. He reluctantly agreed and went back to his apartment, leaving some of his first aid supplies there. In case you ever ‘tripped and fell’ again. 

 

It wasn’t until Bucky reached his bedroom that he started to hear the quiet sobs through the wall since the serum had also boosted his hearing sense. He could not focus while the sobs echoed through the wall. So, all he did was sit down against the wall, listening to you cry. 

 

He somewhat felt responsible for it, even though it had nothing to do with him. If he’d knocked on the door earlier, would you be hurt right now? Would you be crying?

 

There was no use on dwelling on it. He could only hope he would be there next time, so none of your tears would ever fall.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all ur kind comments! ^.^  
> if you could, i would love some more


	5. Chapter 5

Two days after James had aided you in your apartment, you were standing in front of his door, lightly clutching the gift you had for him.

 

You still hadn’t got over what happened. Your stepfather had been angry that the school called about you being late. After school, he yelled at you, and for once, you tried to stand up for yourself. Everything went to shit after that. He got so angry, he threw a lamp at you. When it had hit you in the head, everything started to go dark. Luckily, James, like an angel, had heard the commotion and immediately got his first aid kit. You would forever be grateful to him.

 

So, as thanks, you painted him a picture. You spent all night working on it, then after school, you finished it off with some paint. It was of dawn, with the sun rising over the rooftop of the apartment building. On the back, you wrote a message that said, ”For those times you find yourself feeling dark, look to this sun and think of the light that’s in your future.” You hoped he liked it.

 

After a few seconds of getting yourself together, you finally knocked. There was no answer, but you could hear shuffling on the other side. You knocked again and called, “James?”

 

Next thing you knew, the door swung open, revealing a relieved looking James. He was wearing a navy hoodie with black basketball shorts and running shoes. You also noted the red cap on his head and the strange black glove he wore on his left hand. You immediately regret knocking because he looked like he was about to work out and you just interrupted it.

 

“Hi.” He said.

 

“Hi.” You said, not making an attempt to not sound awkward. “I, um. I can come back later. You look busy.”

 

Just as you were about to leave, James placed his gloved hand on your shoulder to stop you. “Wait.” You flinched because his hand was ridiculously hard. He retracted his hand quickly. “Sorry. And I’m not busy, we can talk.” He gave you a reassuring smile. It suited him.

 

“Oh, okay.” You smiled back, sighing. “Well, I can’t stay long because I have to get to school, so I’ll just give it to you now.” You held out the painting to him. “Here.”

 

He took it and started examining it. “I didn’t get to properly thank you before for, you know... Anyway, uh, I didn’t know what to get you, so I did the only thing I’m good at.” You awkwardly chuckled. “So, do you like it?”

 

James looked over the paint one last time before looking back at you. “This is amazing. Thank you. Though, you didn’t have to.”

 

“Well, it’s just a thank you for that night, no biggie.”

 

Just then the alarm on your phone went off, reminding you to leave for school. You turned it off and looked to James. “I have to go, now. So, um, bye.” You waved him off.

 

“Oh. Bye, then.” He said as you walked off to the elevator. And as those elevator doors closed, you hoped your gift would lift his spirits, even if it was just a little.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Right now, you were on your way to the Principal’s office. Apparently, defending your dignity by yelling at the stupid bitch who’d thrown a ball at your head, causing your nose to bleed, was against school policy.

 

After getting a bunch of tissues from your locker for your bloody nose, you stomped over to the Principal’s office, already dreaming that it was over.

 

The perky secretary that was normally answering calls, wasn’t there. So, your impatient self went over to Mrs. Jones office yourself. Though, when you approach, you overheard the conversation of Ms. Reeves and Mrs. Jones.

 

“...and she is such an amazing artist. I really want her to go on the trip to MOMA. I even heard they have a program for talented individuals who seek to build their skills.” Ms. Reeves said.

 

“I know but she causes so much trouble for herself that it’s hard for me to agree.” Mrs. Jones replied.

 

Ms. Reeves went on to explain that you weren’t like that. _Oh, they’re talking about me?_   “I see how the kids treat her. It’s not entirely her fault she gets in trouble so much.”

 

“Okay, then. I’ll look into it but that has nothing to do with the trip. The main concern is her stepfather. I don’t think he will let her go. I talked with him before and he seemed a bit off.”

 

“I agree. When I spoke to him about letting her go on the trip, he practically yelled and cursed at me!”

 

“That’s why it is out of my control to get her to go on the trip. You’ll have to convince her father. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to a meeting now.” Mrs. Jones said.

 

Ms. Reeves sighed. “Okay. See you later, Jani.” As she left the office, you hid behind the door. After, Ms. Reeves was out of sight you, slipped into Mrs. Jones office. She let out a startled gasp when she saw you.

 

“Oh, my goodness!”

 

“Oh, sorry.” You said sheepishly.

 

“It’s fine. Do you need anything? Because I have to get to a meeting.” She began packing up her stuff.

 

“Uh, Mr. Riso sent me here becau—“

 

“How about you come back tomorrow and we’ll deal with this?”

 

“Oh— uh, okay. Later, then.” You waved and exited the office. Well, that went... well, you guess. Though, you did dread having to go to her office tomorrow.

 

As you were walking down the hall, you passed Ms. Reeves empty room and were reminded of the conversation she had with the Principal.

 

Maybe what she said had some weight. If a teacher could think you were talented enough to think you could get into a special program, maybe you could believe it, too. Ugh, but Brian! That jackass would never let you go on that trip. Unless he didn’t know... You remembered how Ms. Reeves had said that the bus would return at 3:30 pm. That could give you enough time to walk home, and Brian wouldn’t even care that you showed up 30 minutes later than usual. And you had gotten pretty good at mimicking his signature.

 

With confidence you hadn’t felt in a long time, you marched into Ms. Reeves classroom. “Hi.”

 

She said your name surprised. “What do I owe the pleasure for your visit?”

 

“I’ve changed my mind. I wanna go on the trip.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> promise the next chapter will be longer ( ✧≖ ͜ʖ≖)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: sexual assault

 

You were screwed. Completely and utterly screwed.

 

Today had been the trip to The Museum of Modern Art you had been looking forward to since, actually yesterday. You had copied your stepfather’s signature perfectly and handed in the permission slip just this morning.

 

The day had been even better than expected. You were infatuated by all the paintings, sculptures, and decor the museum had to offer. You even ended up talking to a woman about a program the museum was offering for students in the summer. Ms. Reeves encouraged you to look into it but it was way too expensive for you. The rest of the day was spent doing activities and learning about the artists and their works. It was an amazing experience.

 

The thing that screwed it up was the ride back. Ms. Reeves said the bus would arrive back at school around 3:30 pm. That was false because all the traffic holding up the bus would make it late. Meaning you would be late. You cursed the roads and tried not to worry about it that much.

 

The bus finally arrived back at the school at 5:23. Yep. Just as you predicted, you were utterly screwed. You hoped Brian was out at the bar already, though it seemed unlikely. You sighed as you began walking home. There was only one way to find out.

 

 

 

 

You looked to James’ apartment before stepping in front of yours. You really hoped your gift to him brighten his day. After slowly turning the key, you opened the door and glanced around the living room. The TV was on and there were beer bottles scattered all over the coffee table. You stepped inside and quietly closed the door. You knew Brian was here because you could hear his heavy snoring from the couch where he was sleeping.

 

_Fuck..._

 

You put your coat up and carefully stepped onto the hardwood floor. From past times of sneaking out and going to the rooftop, you knew exactly where to step so the floor wouldn’t creak. But just before you made it to your bedroom, you stepped in the wrong place and the floor let out a loud creak.Brian’s snoring stopped. You were totally fucked.

 

He groggily called you name. “Come ‘ere.”

 

You debated whether you should shut yourself in your room or to listen. “ _Now_.” Though the best choice was to listen.

 

You put your bag in your room and walked to him. He was now standing with a nasty look on his face. “Come  _here_.” He pointed one foot in front of him. You took small steps until you were right where he wanted you.

 

“What time is it?”

 

You looked to the clock on the stove. “Five—“

 

“5:43.” He interrupted. “You’re supposed to be home by 5. Like, Jesus. You can’t even follow the rules I give you.” You stared down at the ground. Brian noticed and gripped your chin to look back up at him. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you. God, you’re so disrespectful. Do you know that? No wonder you're always getting into trouble at school.” He let go of your chin but kept his eyes locked on yours. “Also where were you?”

 

“A–at school. With friends.”

 

“Don’t lie to me. Where  _were_  you?”

 

You knew there was no use lying. “I-I-I was o-on a trip...”

 

“You  _what_?” He said angered and you tried to hold back the tears. Suddenly, Brian gripped your ear and brung it closer to his mouth. It felt as if he could rip it off at any second. “Did you not hear me when I said you couldn’t go? Are you that deaf? Or are you doing it on purpose, to get more attention or something?”

 

Now the tears formed earlier were streaming down your face. “Answer me!” He yelled right in your ear and pulled it, causing you to squeal in pain. “Shut it with the noises and answer me.” He said lower. You imagined he didn’t want anyone to hear you.

 

“I-I don’t know!” You quietly sobbed.

 

“Yes you do, and I think I know, too. You want attention. Just like a little whore.” Brian let go of your ear and grabbed hold of your chin, so you faced his cold eyes. “You just want attention from everyone. I see you in the morning, putting makeup on so all the boys will come flocking. But they never do, because you're a fucking nobody and a loser with no friends. But you got my full attention, right now.”

 

He put his hand around your neck and squeezed it tighter, causing you to choke back a cry and hold onto his hand to keep from strangling you. He knew exactly what he was doing because the next thing you knew, you felt his other hand move under and up your shirt. You breathing stiffened and your body tensed.

 

_No. No, no, no. It can’t be happening again._

 

Then his hand has cupping your breast over your bra. He squeezed and you yelped.

 

“No, please.” You begged, with tears sliding down your face. “You said you would never do it again. Please.”

 

Brian leaned closer to your ear and whispered, “I lied.” Then his hand moved to your back to undo the bra clasp and he moved it back to grope your bare breast. You were sobbing at this point as the memories from last time came flooding back. The feeling of him holding you down forcefully to the bed. How his dirty hands roamed your nude body. How his groin would slap into your with every painful thrust. His hand over your mouth as he whispered disgusting words into your ear. It all came flooding back like the dam your brain created to hold the memories just burst.

 

“You know this is your fault.” He said into your ear against as both his hand squeezed tighter, the one on your beast moved to the other. You had to bit your lip hard to keep yourselves from crying out. If you did, you would just make it worse for yourself. “It’s all your fault. You lead yourself to this when you got your mother killed.  _You_  distracted her. It was all  _your_  fault. I had no one when she died.”  _No one to have sex with, you mean_ , you said to yourself.

 

"It’s your fault that this is happening. If you had just listened, this,” — he squeezed your breast hard and you sobbed out a yelp — “wouldn’t be happening. You have no idea how hard it was for me. And since it was your fault, you had to pay me back somehow.”

 

Your eyes were now blurry from all your crying and your throat hurt because you couldn’t get a word out. You moved one of your hands to grab Brian’s wrist and with all your might, tried to get him off. His hand retracted from under your shirt and slapped your hand away. Now both of his hands were on your neck, squeezing twice as hard as before. “You don’t get to move my hand. You still owe me for killing your mother—“

 

There was suddenly a knock at the door and both of your heads turned to the door and froze. Brian took his hands off your neck, not before throwing you into your room. “Don’t make a fucking sound or your dead.” He said, then slammed the door shut. That’s when you burst into silent tears.

 

“Why, why, why?” You whispered while glancing up.

 

Through the door, you hear your stepfather start talking with someone at the front door. You put your ear to the door (the one that wasn’t red because it almost got yanked off) and started listening.

 

“...I heard a ruckus from my apartment. Is everything okay over here?” Your eyes widened when you recognized James’ voice. He had heard and came to see if you were okay. You involuntarily smiled at the thought, though it faded when your stepfather began talking.

 

“Yeah. Everything is fine over here. Something just pissed me off on the TV and I lost it. Nothing to be worried about.” You always hated how your stepfather could be so abusive then go back to talking all friendly with people in an instant. It meant that everything he’d done had no effect on him. That made you sick.

 

“Oh.” James said. You hoped he would believe the lies your stepfather spit out so easily. “Okay. Have a nice evening then.”

 

“No, no, no. Please.” You whispered. “Please don’t leave.”

 

Then you heard the door close and the tears started again. This time, you made some noise. Brian’s stomping towards your door warned you to lock the door before he could do anything else. He jiggled the knob and cursed at you when it didn’t budge.

 

“You better not make any more fucking noise or I’ll bust down this door and do much worse than touch your boobs.” He threatened and stomped off to the couch.

 

That’s when you broke down. No noise came out as you sobbed into your hands. You couldn’t believe it happened again. He said... he said he would never do it again. You were reminded of how he whispered the phrase, “I lied,” into your ear and you cried even harder.

 

The last time he’d done something like that was a year ago when you were 16. But it actually started when you were 14. Back then, he would weirdly touch your waist or thighs. When you were 15, he had started to touch your developing breasts. He had said it was your fault because of your mother. That you owed him for ‘killing’ her. It got worse from there. He started groping you regularly. Sometimes he would even move his hand down a bit further when he was pissed or feeling extra lustful. Then, one day, he had come home from work and said he needed relief. Sighing, you had begun to take off your shirt but when you were finished he pointed to his crotch and you shook your head. The next thing you knew you were on your knees, with his hand roughly grabbing your hair as you went down on him. The worst happened when you were 16. He came home angry and when he asked for relief, he said he needed more than what you already did. Of course, you said no but one thing lead to another and you ended up on the bed, forcefully taking it all.

 

That night you were so close to committing suicide but you stopped yourself before it was too late. You took the pain away via another method.

 

The next day, Brian was worried you would tell someone, so he beat you to a pulp, just to warn you. You obliged with it because, to you, getting a few bruises was significantly less bad than having to help Brian with his ‘relief’. That week, you didn’t go to school for days. He had also said he would never do it again but the way he had said it did not sound sincere. Though, at the time and circumstance, you thought it was the truth.

 

Now you felt as hollow as you did back then. It was like you were living hell. Like you were trapped in the shadow of your stepfather. Like you were caged by his threats, like you were confined by his awful words. It felt like your life was a void of darkness. But at the end of it, all was light. That light was James.

 

You wiped your tears and smiled slightly. He had come. James, the man from the rooftop, had come to see if you were okay. No one had ever done something like that since your mother was alive. James cared enough about you to knock on your door to see if you were okay. And though, you were not, the thought of his kindness made that tiny bit of hope inside grow. You wondered what he was doing right now, if he was still worrying? You want so badly to tell him you were fine. That you were alive.

 

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to stand or to move. So, there you sat for an hour, crying into your huddled knees.

 

That is, until you heard knocking. At first, you thought it was your stepfather, so you moved from the door quickly. Then you realized that he would never knock. There was knocking again. It sounded like it was coming from near your bed. Slowly, you got off the floor and went to your bed and listened. Knocks sounded out again and you put your ear to the wall. Who was knocking on the wall? You knocked back, so see if the person would stop? There were a few moments of silence until it started again. You whined and knocked back to get them to shut it but the knocking continued anyway. Who was even there? The only apartment next to yours was... James’. He was the one knocking! But why? You listened to the knocks more carefully. Some of them were quick and some spaced out like... Morse code. You gasped. He was communicating with you! Quickly you went over to your desk and began searching it for the paper of Morse codes you had written down. It was in case you got locked in your room. You would shine a flashlight out the window and try to get someone’s attention. Thankfully, you’d never been in that position.

 

You searched through the drawer for a minute until you found it. You grabbed a pencil and paper and sat on your bed. You knocked back again, to signal him to restart. Fortunately, he understood and started his knocking again as you wrote down the letters.

 

M. E. E. T. M. E. O. N. T. H. E. R. O. O. F. T. O. P.

 

_Meet meon thero of top?_ You reread it.  _Oh! Meet me on the rooftop!_

You signalled back the letters O and K. With the feeling of hope swelling in your chest, you began to change, not before double-checking the lock first. After gathering some things, you unlocked and opened your door, careful to not make a sound.

 

Your stepfather was passed out on the couch with a bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. Of course, he was out cold, as you could hear his loud snoring as soon as you opened your door. You rushed over to the front door and put on your shoes and jacket, carefully not making a sound. Then, swiftly, you exited the tense air of the apartment and sighed in relief when you closed the door. Off you went, to meet James on the rooftop.

 

 

 

 

James was pacing back and forth, with a hand on his chin, when you peeked through the rooftop door. You opened the door fully and took a giant breath of air. It felt so much better than your stuffy apartment. But as soon as that air left out your mouth, you were bombarded with the horrible memories you forgot about as you were making your way to the rooftop.

 

The door hit the wall and James turned to you, your face already wet from tears. You just stared at him, eyes wide for a moment, before he rushed to you.

 

“What happened? Are you okay?” He asked. He wore a concerned expression and you could see the deep amount of worry that filled his bright blue eyes.

 

There were tears already streaming down your face. You let out a loud sob and collapse into James’ chest. The sturdiness of it and his feet was enough to keep you from knocking him over. You cried into his shirt, wrinkling it because of how much you were gripping it. Slowly, James’ arms wrapped around you in a calming hug. Though his arms were strong, his hug felt unsure, as if he was afraid he would crush you with them. Even still, it was the best you’ve had in a long while.

 

After what felt like forever, you took a deep breath before releasing yourself from James. You sniffed and wiped your wet cheeks.

 

“Sorry, about that. I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable.” You said glancing down.

 

“It’s fine. Are you okay?”

 

“Y-yeah. I feel a little better now.”

 

“Do you wanna talk?”

 

“No. I’m fine.” You smiled sheepishly. 

 

You knew that James knew it was a lie but for some reason, he didn’t push. You appreciated it. 

 

“Okay, but just know” —He put both of his hands on your shoulders and stared at you with a serious look— “that none of it is your fault. Okay?”

 

You nodded in agreement but in your mind, you couldn’t help but disagree. It  _was_  your fault. All of it. Maybe your stepfather coming into your life was a punishment for killing your mother. You couldn’t help but feel responsible. That’s when you began to cry again. This time, you let it all out. And through all of it, James gave the most comforting hug as he cradled your head, with the other on the small of your back. Although you felt like you didn’t deserve his kindness, he reassured you that you did. 

 

“Please believe me when I say that it’s not your fault. At all.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

_“It’s all your fault. You deserved this.” His malicious grin was all you saw as you felt hands travel up and down your naked body._

_“No. Please, no.” Tears were already pricking your tired eyes and you couldn’t wipe them. Your hands were bound in his, crushing both your wrists._

_When you heard the clanking of a belt you knew the worse was about to come._

_“No. No, no!”_

“No!”

 

You shot up from your sleep, chest heaving and breathing rapidly out of control. In an instant, you took in your surroundings. You sat on the couch, in the living room of an unfamiliar apartment.

 

Just then, James appeared from behind a door that you guessed lead to a bedroom. James was wearing a long sleeve shirt with sweat pants, though he still had a glove on his left hand. Then you put two and two together. This was James’ apartment.

 

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking you over.

 

You nodded. “Mmhmm. I’m f-fine.” It was clear you weren’t but you didn’t feel comfortable about sharing your nightmare with someone. “How did I get here?”

 

“You fell asleep on the rooftop. I didn’t want to wake you up, so I brought you here. Sorry.”

 

You smiled reassuringly. “No, it’s fine. Thanks.” You appreciated how he didn’t take you back to your stepfather. That would’ve been awfully messy to deal with.

 

There was a pause of silence as you fiddled with the blanket that had been laid on you to sleep with. You looked over to James. He looked so concerned and thoughtful as his gaze lingered on you.

 

“Do want anything? Water?” He asked.

 

“Uh, water. Please.”

 

James walked over to his kitchen and grabbed two glasses from the cupboard, and filled them both of with tap water. He walked to sit down on the other end of the couch before giving you your water. “Thank you.” You whispered and took a sip.

 

There was another silence as you both took small sips of your water. You looked at James. He was staring intently at his gloved hand, flexing it occasionally. He looked tense. Even more than before. He had bags under his eyes. Had he been awake all night? You also noticed that his hand was shaking. Actually, his whole body was shaking.

 

You put your glass on the side table beside the couch and turned to James. “Are you okay?”

 

He seemed to snap out of whatever was distracting him, as his shaking stopped when you spoke. He didn’t look when he responded. “I’m fine.” He said and gulped down the rest of his water.

 

“Are you sure? You were shaking.” You leaned in his direction.

 

He backed away from you quickly. “I’m _fine_.” He said through gritted teeth. The glass that was in his left hand cracked, he squeezed it too hard. You glanced at it, surprised. _He’s strong_.

 

James looked to your surprised face, then sighed and looked away. “I’m sorry.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I haven’t had anything like this, for some time.”

 

“Had what?”

 

“Someone to talk to.”

 

“Oh. Well, I’m glad to be that person.” You said smiling, trying to lighten the mood.

 

James’ chuckled, but it was humourless. “You don’t have to pity me. I would understand if you want to leave—“

 

“No, I don’t wanna leave!” You said frantically, grabbing at his arm as if to keep him from leaving. James flinched when you took hold on his arm. It was weirdly hard and cool for some reason but you weren’t concerning about that. His face looked a bit shocked. He looked down to you holding his arm. He moved it slightly, like he didn’t want you holding it but he let you. “Please?”

 

James sighed and his expression softened. He placed his other hand on yours. “Sure.”

 

You inwardly sighed in relief, thanking the universe that you didn’t have to go back to your stepfather, for now. You let go of his arm and his body visually relaxed. You guessed he didn’t like people touching him.

 

“Can... do you wanna go out?” You asked.

 

“What?”

 

“I mean like, go out to eat. I’m a bit hungry.”

 

“Don’t you have school? It’s Friday.” He questioned.

 

“No. It’s a day off today. Are you busy today?”

 

“No. But I don’t have any money to—“

 

“That’s okay. I can pay.”

 

“Oh, you don’t have to.” He waved his hand dismissively.

 

“Please? It’s the least I can do for you since you let me stay here.”

 

“Okay, then. Where to?”

 

 

 

 

You and James had decided on a small diner in the middle of the city. The walk there had been silent but a good silence. A few seconds after sitting across from him in a booth, a young-looking waitress came to take your order.

 

“Welcome to Brown’s Diner. What can I get ya?”

 

“Can I have a burger with fries and a Coke?” You said.

 

The waitress wrote down your order then looked to James. “What about you?”

 

“I’ll have the same thing.”

 

“Okay, then. Coming right up.” Then off she went to the kitchen.

 

You looked back to James, who was leaning on his hand, with his elbow on the table. His eyes looked to the passing cars on the road. In a way, his cerulean eyes looked empty. You wondered what was going through his head. He seemed so in touch with reality at most times. But today he looked like he was daydreaming.

 

You propped your elbows on the table and gazed at the mysterious man sitting across from you. You wonder what he was doing in a small city like this one. What had lead him here? Maybe he was running from something, maybe looking. If you had to guess, it would be both. They sometimes went hand in hand. If he was running from something, what was it? Maybe a scorned lover? Or a horrible family? (You could relate if that was the case).

 

Instead of just sitting and dwelling on thoughts you didn’t know were true or not, you decided stirring up a conversation would help answer some of your questions.

 

You tapped James’ arm. He flinched and looked to you. “Did you say something?” He asked confused.

 

“No, I just wanted to ask you a question.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Where are you from?”

 

“Brooklyn.”

 

“Why’d you move out here, then?”

 

“Uh, well, I move a lot. I’ve lived here for three weeks now and I usually stay in one place for five.” He explained.

 

Just then, the waitress came around with your food. You thanked her politely. As you popped a fry into your mouth, James spoke up.

 

“Can I ask you a question?”

 

You swallowed the fry. “Sure.”

 

“I don’t want to offend you or anything— but, why do you hang out with me instead of your friends?”

 

“Oh.” Your eyebrows furrowed. You weren’t expecting that. “Well, uh, I’m gonna sound like a total loser but...” You ran your hands down your face and let out a humourless chuckle. “I don’t have any friends. All the dipshits at my school think I’m weird.”

 

James hummed. “I guess the people that think your weird would also think I’m weird. But I already know I am so it’s okay.”

 

This time, your laugh was genuine.

 

 

 

 

After finishing up your meal, you paid for the food. Though, James still felt like he should’ve been the one paying.

 

As you both walked the hallway of your apartment, you spotted the door to your home. You sighed. Guess it was time for you to go home, even though you really didn’t want to. Though you had to, since it was almost 5 pm and your stepfather would beat you a new one if you came home late again. You would just tell him you were at school since he didn’t care enough to look at the school’s calendar. Before you knocked on your door, you turned to James.

 

“Thank you again for letting me sleep at your apartment.”

 

James shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me. I should I have to thank you for taking me out to get some real food for once. I haven’t had a burger that good since— since a long time.”

 

You smiled. “It’s no problem. Though I do have one more question for you.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Why do you always were a glove on your left hand?” You asked reaching for his hand.

 

He quickly pulled it away and hid it behind his back. Very nervously, he replied. “That’s a story for another day.”

 

“Oh, okay. See you around then.” But before you could knock, James’ right hand grabbed hold of yours.

 

“Just so you know, if you ever wanna talk or something, my door is always open. You can come over at any time. Even at night. Just, please, know that I’m here for you. Okay?”

 

His words almost made you cry right then and there. Instead, you sighed and smiled back at him. “Okay.”

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

When you had arrived home after your day with James, your stepfather had asked were you were. You told him school (even though you had a day off) and he believed you.

 

What surprised you was that he had given you a new phone. To keep track of you apparently, since he didn’t want you running away or something. And though you had not said thank you to his face, you were somewhat grateful for it.

 

 

 

 

The day after hanging with James, Brian had stormed in the house, enraged because of something at his work. Immediately he started venting to you about how shit his life was and the cycle started up again. He would yell, you would slowly try to get to your room and lock the door but he would catch you and yell about insignificant you were to him.

 

But because of his ‘awful day’ at work, something snapped inside him. Instead of getting the usual slap on the cheek or belt whip, he went all out.

 

After he was done, he stormed out of the apartment, probably on his way to a bar. All the while you just laid on the ground, feeling broken, mentally and physically. You didn’t get up, but you could feel the tender skin of the bruises on you arm and neck. The worst had to be your face. It felt swollen and bloody.

 

Out of some need for hope, you tiredly got up from the ground. Though your limbs were shaky and full of pain every time you moved one, you managed to stand up and limp your way to the door.

 

After you figured out how to open the door without causing yourself pain, you stumbled to the apartment door next to yours. You knocked twice, which was enough to get someone’s attention because a second later, the door opened and James appeared. He didn’t waste a second before letting you in.

 

Not long after, you were sitting on a chair as James tended to your wounds. You winced when the rubbing alcohol stunk your open skin.

 

“Sorry.” James whispered and he sighed. After cleaning up your wounds the best he could with what little supplies he had, James helped you to the couch. He sat down beside you.

 

You fiddled with your fingers, trying to distract from the awful silence in the room.

 

“What happened?” James said suddenly. You glanced up at him. Like all of the other times he’d look at you, his expression was filled with concern.

 

“I just got into a fight at school.” You replied.

 

“No, you didn’t.” James said.

 

“Yes, I di—“

 

“I heard you screaming. I heard him beating yo—“

 

“We were just arguing. It—“

 

“Why are you defending him?!” James yelled suddenly, startling you. “Almost every night I hear him yelling at you! And I always assume the worst. But then I hear you crying in your room. And I... I-it...” James looked over to your shocked expression and regret instantly seemed to fill him.

 

He sighed. “I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business. But I can’t help but worry about you. Because I...” He didn’t finish.

 

“It’s my stepfather.” You said. “Today he was angry about something at his work. I tried too sneak to my room but he caught me...” You shook your head, as of to get the pained memories out of your head.

 

You glanced at James again. His fists and jaw were clenched and his expression was dark.

 

“How long.” He mumbled.

 

”What?”

 

“How long has he been treating you like that?”

 

You didn’t answer.

 

“Please?” He pleaded.

 

“Since I was 13...” You said quietly and you heard metal shift. James’ breathing was steady but he looked he was trying his hardest to keep it that way, as his body looked very tense.

 

You looked at the clock on your phone. 7:53 pm it read. You yawned. This probably wouldn’t have been the proper time to ask, but you couldn’t bare going back to your house and facing Brian. “Can... can I sleep here tonight?”

 

James’ face turned back to its regular bland state and he visibly calmed. “‘Course. Are you tired now?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, you can see in the bed if you want. It’s more comfortable that the couch.”

 

You shook your head. “Oh, it’s fine. I don’t want to be a burden.”

 

“You won’t be. I’m used to much worse conditions. I insist.”

 

You sighed. When ever you heard that phrase, there was no more arguing. “Okay. Thank you.”

 

James got up from the couch and walked to the bedroom. “I’ll just set it up real quick for you.”

 

After a few minutes of sitting in the silence of the small living room, James finally came out of the bedroom with a pile of dirty sheets and placed them near the door. “All ready for ya.” He said gesturing towards the bedroom.

 

You walked over and were about to close the door, but called to James first. “Thank you, again.”

 

“No problem.” He smiled and you shut the door.

 

It was too dark to see in the dimly lit room, due to the streetlights peeking through the curtains. You were too lazy to turn on the light so you just felt around. You found the bed and removed your shoes and jacket before slipping in. James was right about this bed because it was way more comfortable that the couch. It was even slightly more comfortable that yours at home.

 

Well, it really wasn’t your home. Brian loved to tell you that a lot. No, now was not the time to think about him. You buried your head into the pillow and sighed. The tiredness of the day soon filled your mind, sending you off to sleep.

 

 

 

 

In the middle of the night you woke to the sound of loud rustling, coming from the living room. Curious and a bit frightened, you stood up carefully. You didn’t want to hurt yourself more that he already had.

 

Quietly, you crept out of the door, cautious of not wanting to bump into anything since if you turned on the lights, they would be blinding. You could make out James’ figure on the couch, though it was dark. He was moving frantically in his sleep while murmuring something you couldn’t hear. You tiptoed to him.

 

“James?”

 

He continued to stir. “No.” He mumbled.

 

“James wake up.”

 

“No. Please, not her. No!”

 

Now you were worried. Slowly, you reached for his arm. When you made contact, he flinched immediately and grabbed your wrist hard with his left hand. You winced, since that was the hand that was bruised.

 

When you looked to James to see if he would let go, his eyes were closed. He was still asleep.

 

Suddenly, he gently yanked your wrist, causing to fall onto him. Your torso was half on his as your legs dangled off the side of the couch. James finally let go of your wrist and wrapped you in a hug with both arms. You felt confused, as your cheek laid against his hard chest. Though somehow it was soothing.

 

You tried to move your arms. That failed. James had an iron grip. You sighed. Might as well get comfortable if he wasn’t going to let go of you. Grunting, you moved your legs so that they laid beside James. You tried your hardest not to focus on how warm he felt. Instead you focused on not hurting your arm as you moved. Finally, you made it on.

 

All that could be heard was James’ heartbeat in your ear. As well as a soft whirring sound. You didn’t know where it was coming from, but it was calming. All that mixed with the tiredness that was coming back to you, slowly made you fall back asleep.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

Bucky slowly awoke with a heavy feeling on his chest. He wiped his eyes and pushed his bed head hair out of his face. He inhaled quickly when he saw your sleeping form on top of his chest. While your torso was on his, one of your legs laid between his and the other beside him.

 

Bucky slowly took his arms from around you and started to push you off him. This caused you to wince softly and move your leg up, pressing it between his legs. His breath hitched and not because it hurt.

 

Bucky tried to push you again and the same thing happened. He sighed in defeat and put his hands behind his head.

 

Bucky looked at the wall on the other side of the apartment. It was coated in the orange hue of the sunrise.

 

What had happened last night for you to end up on top of him? He only remembered falling asleep and having that awful nightmare. In it, HYDRA had found him and used you as blackmail material to bring him back. Of course, he had to agree. But just as he expected, they lied and killed you right in front of him. But just as they were about to pull the trigger, everything went dark and he felt a warm presence surround him. He now realized it was you. He exhaled deeply. He didn’t deserve you here like this, after everything he’d done.

 

You began to stir as soon as Bucky placed his metal hand on your back. He quickly pulled it back. You yawned and lifted your head to face Bucky. When you realized he was awake and that you were laying on him, your eyes widened. You quickly got off from him but your legs got tangled up in the blanket on top of him. You ended up falling on the ground with a thud and yelled out in pain.

 

Bucky quickly got off the couch. “Oh, shit. Are you okay?” He lifted you by your waist and helped you into the couch. Thank goodness he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, or else you’d be able to see his arm.

 

You winced when you accidentally placed your hand on the couch for support. “I-I’m fine.” You fiddled with your fingers in the cutest way as you looked down. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on top of you. You were making noise so I went to check on you. You calmed down when I was there but you grabbed me in your sleep and wouldn’t let go.”

 

“Oh. I’m sorry... And thank you.” He said sheepishly.

 

You sighed then got up from the couch to walk to the table. There you took your phone out of your jacket pocket and looked at it. Bucky wondered what happened to the music device he gave to you before. Though, he did see you use it once and a while if you two met in the elevator. He guessed it didn’t really matter since he had to move away soon. He didn’t stay in one stop for very long and his time here was _way_ overdue.

 

“Shit!” Your voice broke Bucky from his thoughts. You began rapidly put on your jacket.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“I’m gonna be late for school.” You stopped in front of him. “Thanks for letting me sleep here. Again.”

 

“No problem.”

 

You walked over to the door. Bucky’s voice made you stop, though. “Wait.”

 

“Yeah?” You looked back at him in question.

 

“Um.” Bucky avoided eye contact with you and instead starred at your chin, rather than your gazing eyes. “I’m leaving, soon.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

He finally gathered enough courage to look you in the eyes but immediately dropped them when he saw your lost expression. “I have to move. I’ve stayed here for too long.”

 

“Why?”

 

He sighed and stood, his height towering over your meek frame. “I... can’t tell you now. We can talk after you come back from school.”

 

“Oh.” Your face dropped and Bucky could’ve sworn he saw a tear slide down your face. His chest ached and filled with sympathy. Not for him, but for you. “Okay, then.”

 

Before he could utter another word, you were out the door. Bucky stood in the silence of the apartment and spent the rest of the day contemplating whether he should leave or not.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You didn’t have enough time in the morning to put on your makeup, so you just wore a sweater and scarf for the rest of the day. Thankfully, no one questioned it, though it looked weird since it was warm enough outside to wear shorts.

 

It wasn’t until art class that things started to take a turn for the worst.

 

You sat at a lone desk at the back of the room as you drew. In your sketchbook, your pencil glided across the paper to make a somewhat decent drawing of James. If you weren’t ever going to see him again, you might as well draw him a gift for the road.

 

You were very confused as to why he was moving and why he didn’t tell you before. Maybe it was because of you. Maybe he didn’t want to deal with your problems. He probably had some of his own to deal with.

 

You wondered what he meant when he said, “I’ve stayed here for too long.” What was he running from that he had a certain amount of time to spend in a place?

 

You sighed. You could ask all these questions later when you met him after school.

 

The bell rang, signalling the end of class. You gathered up your things and headed for the door.

 

Ms. Reeves called your name beside you stepped outside the door. “Could I talk to you for a second?”

 

You nodded and clutched your binder to your chest as you walked to her desk.

 

“Is everything okay? You seemed quiet in class today.”

 

You scoffed. “Yeah? I’m like that every day.”

 

“Yes, I know. But today, you looked depressed. Is something going on at home?” Her eyes were filled with worry.

 

You adjusted your scarf. “No, nothing. Everything is fine.”

 

Her expression changed in an instant when you accidentally lifted your scarf too much. “Are these bruises? On your neck?”

 

“No. They’re hickies.” You lied quickly.

 

“Are you sure? Is something happening your father—?”

 

“It’s none of your business.” You snapped. “And he’s my  _step_ father. And don’t bother calling him. You’ll only make it worse.” You stormed out of the room, wiping your tears as you sped walked down the hall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You flung open the front door of the apartment. Swinging it shut, you tried to control your rapidly beating heart.

 

You didn’t even notice Brian sitting at the kitchen table with a pissed expression. In front of him was a ripped white envelope with your name scribbled on the front.

 

“Who the fuck is James?” Brian asked.

 

Your entire body went stiff. “W-who?”

 

Brian lifted the letter off the table. “The guy who wrote this letter.” He stood up. “Who is he?”

 

“O-our n-neighbour.”

 

“Why’d you tell him I hit ya?”

 

“I didn’t.”

 

“Oh, yes you did. This right here,” —he lifted the envelope— “is proof you did. Answer the question: why?”

 

“Because h-he cares.” You stammered.

 

Brian laughed. “If he cared then why’d he leave?”

 

“Wait, what?”  _He left? I thought he was going to talk with me..._ “Lemme see.” You said trying to grab the envelope.

 

Brian put it over his head and out of your reach. “Oh, no. You’re not getting this.” He crumpled up the paper and threw it somewhere behind him.

 

You kept your face straight as tears began to slide down your cheeks, though your lips still quivered. 

 

Brian took a step closer to you. You lost your balance trying to back up, luckily you caught yourself on the front door. “What else did you tell him?”

 

“Just that...”

 

“I know your lying. You always fucking do. Don’t make me beat it outta you.”

 

“Please! I’m not lying—“ Brian’s hand came in contact with your face, hard. You fell back onto the door and sank to your knees. 

 

“Don’t you fucking yell at me! I’m the adult. You're supposed to respect me.” He lifted your shirt collar, bringing you off the ground. He gripped your neck with his hand, slowly squeezing until it became choking. “What else did you tell him?”

 

“N-Nothing! I swear.” You managed to say. 

 

Brian squeezed harder and got closer to your face. “Stop ducking lying! Tell me the truth!” You couldn’t breathe. 

 

“You raped me! I told him you raped me!” You choked out from the tight hold Brian had on you. 

 

He moved his hand to your face, covering your mouth and nose. “Don’t fucking yell that. I don’t want people to hear.”

 

Was he that stupid? _If you didn’t want people to hear you wouldn’t have been the one yelling in the first place._

 

“What the  _fuck_  did you just say?”

 

Shit. Did you say that out loud? Your brows furrowed when Brian slowly took his hand off. He then punched your jaw, sending your face against the hard door then onto the floor. 

 

“Don’t you fucking disrespect me!”

 

Another one of his punches hit you, and your head bounced off the wooden floor. Your head stung and your vision was blurry as Brian lifted you by your shirt and dragged you to his room. 

 

“I’ll teach you to never fucking do that again.” He grumbled. 

 

You immediately processed what was happening and began to squirm vigorously. He adjusted his arms to brace you tightly. The more you squirmed the worse he gripped you, squeezing your already injured arm. 

 

“Help—!” You tried to scream but he put a hand over your mouth, muffling your cries. Hot tears streamed down your face as Brian threw you into the bed. 

 

Brian’s pissed off expression was the only thing you focused on as he took one final step towards you.

 

Until banging sounded from the front door...

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

After one final bang, you could hear the door burst from its hinges. Heavy and fast footsteps bounded towards Brian’s bedroom. Your stepfather just stood confused, as to what the noise was, so he stepped to the door frame.

James appeared in front of him and he wasted no time as he punched Brian in the jaw, sending him flying into the dresser. Brian rolled around on the floor around his scattered belongings as you looked to James, startled.

His fists were tightly clenched, as well as his jaw. The look he gave Brian was dark and menacing, his body stood rigged and tall. He looked nothing like the James you knew.

His steps were quick towards Brian, who was leaning on the dresser, trying to stand up. James socked him right in his nose and he fell again. Brian gave James a look full of fury as he wiped the blood spilling out his nose.

James’ expression has no empathy in it when he kicked Brian, knocking him to the ground. Instead of faltering, Brian stood his ground and pounced on James after grabbing a sharp piece of the lamp he had shattered. He plunged the sharp deep into James’ chest and he howled out in pain.

“No!” You yelled out. Brian looked at the mess before him. He stared at his bloody hands before struggling to lift himself. Once he got up, he grabbed your wrist, yanked you off the bed, and dragged you out the door.

You were in too much of a shock to process what was happening. All that was on your mind was that James had been stabbed. Tears quickly formed in your eyes. You had to get back to him before he bled out. Before he died...

Brian dragged you across the apartment and threw you to the floor once he got to the kitchen. He began rummaging through every drawer and cupboard.

“Who the fuck was that?!” He asked with gritted teeth.

You placed a hand on your head to try and stop it from pounding. “N-neighbour.”

“Oh, once I take care of him, your next.” He pulled a pistol out of one of the draws and cocked it. Your eyes widened.

Suddenly, James appeared from the bedroom with the bloody lamp sharp in his hand and a wound that was spilling blood. His shirt was coloured crimson as the thick liquid ran down his torso.

Both you and Brian froze.

When James took one step toward you, Brian shot at him. You gasped and shut your eyes. Instead of hearing James fall to the ground dead, you only heard the bullet ricochet off metal.

You opened your eyes as Brian continued to shoot at James but all the bullets just ricocheted off his hand. What the hell?

Brain re-aimed the gun and shoot James in the abdomen, not before James clocked his jaw again and he fell the ground with a thud.

James hovered over Brian’s body as you stared at him disbelief. Suddenly, he began punching his fallen body constantly, one after the other. Each punch he threw made his fists bloodier and bloodier.

You looked down to your stepfather’s face and your face retorted in disgust. If James didn’t stop, he would kill him. You didn’t want him to get locked up for that. You got up quickly and ran to James.

You struggled to hold his arm back as you yelled. “James! Please, stop! You’re going to kill him!”

His head turned to you and his expression was full of anger and his eyes were empty. “Прочь с дороги. Он моя миссия. (Get out of my way. He is my mission.)”

He pushed you off his arm and you fell backward, landing on top of your arm. You cried out in pain. You scrambled off the ground again and returned to James’ side.

He had was still punching Brain when you yanked him away by his arm. “James! Please, stop! I don’t want you to do this!”

“Это не имеет значения. Он моя миссия. Я должен защитить тебя. (It does not matter. He is my mission. I have to protect you.)” He replied.

Was he speaking Russian? “Please, stop!” You yanked him with all your might. He didn’t budge. “Please! If you kill him, you’ll go to jail! A-and I can’t bear that. Please.” You cupped his cheeks in your palms and turned his face to yours.

Tears streaked down your face as you tried to recognize the man before you, his face contorted with fury.

“Please...” You whispered as you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face into his hair.

You both sat there in silence until you felt James' hands touch yours lightly. He brought your hands your lap and look up at you. Now, you could see the man before you for what he truly was. You didn’t know what had happened, but you were grateful he was back.

He looked to the mess in front of him and stood up immediately. You stood up beside him. His breaths were quick as you both looked at the disfigured face of your stepfather. “Is... is he—?”

“No,” James replied.

You looked back at him. His whole body was tense, as well as shaking. He took a deep breath and spoke. “We need to leave.”

“What?”

“Gather up your things. And hurry.”

You nodded and headed to your room, not before grabbing a garbage bag from the kitchen.

You opened your dresser and emptied out all of its contents into the garbage bag. It was only half full. Next, you gathered everything important drawings and documents you could find around the house. As you searched, you quickly picked up the wad of money lying in the safe Brian had opened.

You met James at the front door. He was clutching his stomach. Blood leaked out of his stomach, as well as the stab wound on his chest. You swallowed hard.

“Let’s go.” He grunted and you nodded.

You took one last look around the apartment, only to notice Brian pointing the gun in James’ direction.

“No!” You screamed and threw yourself in front of the bullet’s way. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as James pulled you out of the way, but not fast enough. The bullet grazed the side of your stomach and hit the wall opposite of the apartment door.

You yelled out in pained. James quickly slammed the door shut and hoisted you and your bag over his shoulder. He ran as fast as he could down the staircase. All the while you groaned in pain.

“It hurts.” You moaned.

“I know. Me, too. Just hold on just a little longer. We’re almost there.” James reassured you but his voice was filled with as much pain as yours. Maybe more.

James busted out the back door of the apartment where an old 2001 Honda Civic sat waiting in the light of dusk. He threw the garbage bag into the back and gently placed you down in the passenger seat. You both winced in pain as he hot-wired the car. The car turned on and James sped out the back alley.

As he was driving, he managed to grab a few napkins from the side door and pass them to you.

“Did the bullet penetrate or graze you?”

“G-graze. I think.”

He sighed in relief. “Good. Press these up against the wound to stop the bleeding.”

You did as told as he pulled into a relatively empty gas station. He stopped beside the side of the building, next to the bathroom.

“Can you walk?”

You hummed and nodded.

Though you did have trouble getting out of the car, you managed and were able to make it to the bathroom of the gas station.

James shut the door as soon as you were inside. The bathroom was a tight fit for the both of you, but it was all you had to cover your bloody selves.

“Show me the graze.” He said sternly.

James helped you out of your jacket and you lifted your shirt to reveal the graze. It looked as bad as it felt. The blood from it leaked on to your shirt, as well as dripping some blood to stain your jeans.

James took a deep breath. “Okay. You may not like this, but... I have to sew it closed.”

“What!?” You squeaked and moved your torso. That just made the wound feel worse. You winced.

“Please. I need to stop it before you bleed out.”

You looked into his bright blue eyes. Something in them made you trust him. Reluctantly, you nodded.

James opened the first aid kit he had brought in and grabbed an antiseptic towelette and a thread and needle. Before getting started, he took off his leather jacket and ripped a piece of his long sleeve shirt and told you to bite down on it. Your heartbeat increased.

“You understand why we can’t go to a hospital, right?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Good.”

James put pressure on the graze with the antiseptic towelette and you tried your hardest not to shout. After he wiped the area clean, he looked you straight in the eyes and held your hand tightly.

The needle pierced your skin, drawing blood, and you whimpered but kept quiet. James tried his hardest to be quick with it but not rush. After a few seconds, the worst of the pain was over and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

He applied a few layers of gauze over the still bleeding wound, then wrapped the medical tape around your waist to secure it.

You washed your bloody hands in the sink as you looked it the mirror. Your hair was a mess and your shirt’s side was drenched in blood. You sighed and looked at James.

You realized very quickly that you had it easy with the injuries. He had been stabbed and shot twice. You knelt down to the man, who was sitting against the wall. The tired and pained look in his eyes was enough to make your heartache.

“We have to go.” He said, weakened.

“No. You’re still bleeding. Let me help you.”

“I’m fine—“

“No, you’re not. You’ll die if we don’t do anything. Please. Just let me take out the bullets at least.”

He grunted as he adjusted himself to get more comfortable. “Fine.” He said reluctantly and looked away from your eyes.

You grabbed the pair of scissors from the kit. “I’m gonna have to cut your shirt. Can I?”

He nodded, still looking away from you.

You exhaled and began to cut up the center of the bloody shirt. Once it was fully opened, you gasped.

You stared at the metal that was James’s left shoulder. The way the skin scarred around the metal made you wince.

“What— What is this?” You asked quietly as you reached to touch it.

James’ other hand gripped your wrist before you could touch it.

“My arm.” He answered, head still turned.

“Why? What happened—?”

He finally locked eyes with you. “I’ll tell you everything later. Just, please, hurry.”

You nodded and grabbed the tweezers in the kit and breathed deeply. You could do it. I can do it.

With that, you gently put a hand on James’ abdomen and insert the tweezers in the wound. James’ immediately groaned out in pain and you were quick to apologize.

“It’s okay.” He said with labored breaths. “Keep going.”

You delicately pushed the needle in one centimeter at a time. Each time James’ face contorted in pain. Finally, the tweezers reached the bullet. You clasped onto it and began pulling and gave James’ the piece of his shirt back to keep him from yelling out.

You finally removed the bullet and threw it into the sink.

James was breathing heavily as he looked at you.

“Did it go through any organs?” You asked.

“No. Neither did the other one, thankfully.”

“You ready?” You asked, implying you wanted to move to the next bullet.

“Yeah.” He said and adjusted himself again.

In no time, the other bullet came out into the now bloody sink. You went to try and sew the stab wound closed but James insisted it was fine, so you left it. Instead, you bandaged up his wounds, just like he did with you.

“What are we gonna do about our clothes?” You asked standing up.

James followed your lead but faltered and you rushed to his side to help. “I’m gonna wear my jacket and I can get some of your clothes from the bag you brought.”

You nodded and looked around the messy bathroom. “What about the mess?”

“Leave it. We don’t have time to be lingering places.”

“Okay.”

James washed his hands then walked out the door as you began to wash the tools from the kit. James reappeared a minute later with a pill of your clothes. You thanked him as he closed the door.

As you changed, your mind wandered to James’ metal arm. Where had he gotten it from? Was his real arm underneath it or was it a replacement. You racked your brain for any information on the subject and a memory of a newscast on a man that reminded you of James came to you. You gasped.

Quickly, you finished changing, picked up all of the bloody clothes off the ground and the first aid kit and headed out the door. James was waiting in the car as the engine hummed lightly. You opened the door and threw everything into the backseat.

There was an unbearable silence between the two of you. You exhaled deeply and discover to break it.

“Are you... are you the Winter Solider?”

You looked to James for a reaction. He gripped the car wheel tightly as he slowed his breathing. He inhaled, then exhaled.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long lol


	11. Chapter 11

The car ride was more awkward than ever. The stereo played quietly in the background as you looked out the window to the passing buildings. 

 

After you had asked James about being the Winter Soldier but he said he would answer all your questions once you were a safe distance out of the city. 

 

If you were being honest, you were still a bit shaken. If James had not have come, Brian would’ve done it again. You shivered at the thought. 

 

Now that you were free of your stepfather, you didn’t know what you wanted. Brian had always been the one to tell you what to do with no free reign on the situation. It was a bit much to think that it was all over. You had no idea how to care for yourself or even cook. 

 

You turned your gaze to James. Maybe he could help you. Well, he already was. You were so thankful for him. He was kind of like your knight in shining armour. 

 

You yawned as the sun began to lower across the horizon. 

 

“Hey, James?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Thank you.”

 

You closed your eyes and leaned against the car window. 

 

James sighed. “No problem.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You woke up when the car came to a stop in the parking lot of an old motel. 

 

You yawned and stretched as you looked at your surroundings. “Where are we?”

 

“A motel. I can’t drive while tired and I don’t wanna risk it.” James said gathering the dried bloody clothes in the back. 

 

“Okay.”

 

“Stay here. I’mma get a room.”

 

“Okay.”

 

After a few minutes, James returned with a key for the room. He slung the bag full of your belongings over his shoulder and also a plastic bag of clothes from the trunk and brought them to the room. 

 

The room was small and cozy, with a bathroom near the door, a desk, an old TV, and one queen sized bed. 

 

“Sorry I couldn’t get two beds. I didn’t have enough—“ You interrupted James’ unneeded apology. 

 

“You don’t need to apologize. You’ve already done so much for me that I don’t know how to thank you.”

 

“Oh...” He said softly and you laughed wearily. 

 

“I’mma take a shower.” You mumbled, as you took some clothes from your bag and went into the washroom. 

 

You undressed slowly to not hurt yourself further and looked in the mirror. The bullet graze had bled through the gauze and there were still a few obvious bruises on your neck, chest and arms because of Brian. 

 

You gently began removing the tape from around your hips and then peeled off the bloody gauze. Showering wasn’t painful unless the soap directly got in the stitches. 

 

After finishing washing and rinsing your hair, you dried yourself and your hair with the towel and got dressed in a long sleeve shirt, with socks, sweatpants, and a baggy sweatshirt; your ideal comfort outfit. 

 

You peeked out of the bathroom with your dirty clothes in hand. James was nowhere in sight. You threw your clothes on the small wooden desk and looked around the room for James’ first aid kit. It sat opened on the desk chair. 

 

You gathered some gauze and medical tape and redid your bandages. After you climbed into the bed, careful to not put pressure on the stitches. 

 

You turned your head and faced the alarm clock. It read 9:10 pm. 

 

You didn’t realize how tired you were until you yawned again. Sleep slowly overcame you as your eyes fluttered shut. 

 

 

 

 

 

You woke to the sound of someone rummaging through a bag. 

 

You rubbed your eyes and sat up to see shirtless James look through a plastic bag. The only thing he wore was navy sweatpants that hung low in his hips. 

 

As he moved, your attention focused on his left arm. His whole arm was made of thick metal plates that were in sync with the rest of his body. It was terrifying to think about how much damage it could do. 

 

He finally pulled a black long sleeve shirt out of the bag and pulled it over his head. He adjusted the bag but stopped when he saw you staring at him. 

 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He ran a hand through his wet hair. He had likely showered after he came back. 

 

“Uh, it’s fine.” You waved your hand dismissively. 

 

An awkward silence filled the room as James picked up some spare blankets from the linen closet, and set them on the floor. 

 

“What are you doing?” You asked. 

 

“Going to sleep.”

 

“On the floor?”

 

“Yes.”

 

You paused. “You could, um, come sleep in the bed if you wanted?”

 

He paused also. 

 

You continued. “I mean, it’s the least I can do. You paid for the room after all.”

 

“...You sure?” He asked, not sounding too convinced the idea. 

 

“Yes, I’m sure.”

 

He moved quietly to put the extra blankets away as you tucked yourself back into the bed. 

 

The bed dipped when James climbed in. You could tell he was trying his best not to touch you, which you appreciated. 

 

You quickly began to fall asleep just before accidentally brushing your arm against his metal one. You flinched away due to its cool temperature against your sweatshirt. 

 

“Sorry.” James murmured and he scooted over an inch. 

 

“It’s fine.” Your curious urges got the best of you, and without munching thinking, you blurted out, “What happened to your arm?”

 

James stayed silent.

 

“Sorry for askin—“

 

“No, no. I guess I promised I would explain all of this. Guess this is the time.” He exhaled deeply before continuing. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I was apart of the 107th Infantry Regiment in World War Two. I was... best friends with this kid named Steve, or rather, Captain America. On a mission, I fell from a train and almost died. But a bad organization named HYDRA captured me and gave me this arm since my original one had been amputated when I fell. They erased my memories and turned me into an assassin. For 70 years, I killed and tortured people. Innocent people. I remember all of them. 

 

“I finally escaped after what happened in Washington and so far, HYDRA has never found me. I moved from place to place for a year until I met you. I’m not even sure if everything I’m saying is right. I only know stuff from the museums I’ve visited to already regain some memories. I don’t remember much but I get flashes of them sometimes.”

 

“Wow...” It took some time to absorb everything he told you. His story was so heartbreaking and cruel. How could anyone do that to a human?

 

“James?” You called. 

 

“You can call me Bucky. It’s what Steve used to call me.”

 

_How sweet_.  “Okay then,  _Bucky_ .” You’d have to get used to calling him that. “Why don’t you go back to Capta— I mean, Steve?”

 

“I dunno. I just feel like he’d be disappointed if he found me like this. He’s used to the me from the 40s. I don’t even remember what I was like back then, let alone know everything about our friendship. He wouldn’t know me and be disappointed.”

 

“Yeah but, what if he  does ?”

 

“I wouldn’t wanna risk it.”  _~~James~~_   Bucky turned to face the other way, and you took the hint. 

 

You faced away from him also, and drifted away with Bucky’s words still stuck in your mind. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bucky’s vigorous movement woke you in seconds. His head turned rapidly and his body wouldn’t stop shaking. You guessed it was a nightmare. 

 

With a concerned expression across, you poked his side, in attempt to wake him. “Bucky?”

 

Suddenly, he moved swiftly and end up straddling you. He squeezed his legs against your hips, pressing on the tender, still healing wound. You yelled out in pain but Bucky’s metal hand came around your neck and the other on top of your mouth to muffle your screams. 

 

In warning, he squeezed his metal hand and you were instantly reminded of all the times Brian had done the same.

 

“James— Bucky! Please!” You cried out as tears ran down your cheeks. “L-let go! Please, I can’t breathe!” Even though he wasn’t squeezing enough to obstruct air from reaching your lungs, it was enough to give you vivid flashbacks of when Brian choked squeezed so hard you couldn’t breathe and your eyesight almost went black. 

 

You cried out and struggled against Bucky until he finally snapped out of whatever had him in a trace. 

 

You looked to him in fear as what happened dawned on him. 

 

“Oh my god, I’m  _so_   sorry. I-I didn’t mean it. That wasn’t me, I swear. I would  _never_ — oh god, please, I’m sorry.”

 

He ran his hands through his hair nervously as he got up from the bed. “I’ll go.” He said, then swiftly ran out the door. 

 

Your breathing was hurried, as well as your heart. You felt conflicted. On the one hand, you didn’t want to see Bucky right now and just cry into your pillow, just like almost every other night back home. On the other, you knew it wasn’t Bucky’s fault at all and wanted to help him feel better. After a few seconds of crying and trying to calm yourself, you chose the latter. 

 

You slipped on your shoes and headed outside into the cool night. Bucky was seated in the plastic lawn chair just outside the door. He looked surprised to see you standing there. 

 

“I’m sorry.” He said instantaneously. “I understand if you don’t want me to sleep in there anymore. I can sleep in the car—“

 

“No, don’t do that. I... I’m fine, now. Really. Come back inside.” 

 

“But—“

 

“It’s _not_ your fault. I forgive you.” You hoped your words and expression were enough to make him come back inside, because of you were being honest, you didn’t want to be alone anymore. 

 

Thankfully, Bucky nodded and cane back inside. 

 

He was hesitant to get back into bed but you managed to convince him that you were okay with it. 

 

You both laid there in silence, the only sound came from your breathing. 

 

Still feeling uneasy because of the awful memories, you moved closer to Bucky. 

 

He immediately tensed. 

 

You moved onto your non-wounded side, facing him. He stared right back at you with his cerulean eyes. 

 

Slowly, you moved your arm to hug his flesh shoulder. “Can... can I?” You questioned. 

 

Bucky swallowed then nodded. 

 

You cuddled into his arm, and unwillingly interlaced your fingers in his. Right away, you felt a comfort you had never felt. Not since your mother. You squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. You found comfort in knowing Bucky would be here at your side, to comfort you all night. You fell asleep easily that night. 


	12. Chapter 12

Bucky woke the next morning more comfortable than ever. He couldn’t bring himself to move.

 

Your arm draped across his chest and your right leg sat comfortably on his. Your head buried in the crook of his neck. He could feel your slow breaths against his neck every time you exhaled. Sometimes you would even involuntarily snuggle up to him. He enjoyed every minute of it.

 

He hadn’t felt like this in forever. Every time before, people had only touched him to hurt him and for a while, he accepted that all touch was just like that. But ever since that night when you had slept on his chest on the couch, he started to miss human contact. And now that he had you here, he wanted more.

 

The warmth of your body was like a drug to him now. He savoured every second of your contact, every little detail. The weight of your arm and leg was delightful and every time you moved in your sleep, it sent a shiver down his spine.

 

_Maybe if I could just...?_ Bucky carefully began to move you by your waist, onto his full person. He stopped abruptly when you almost woke up. Thankfully, you didn’t, and he was able to get your entire body on top of his.

 

You moaned quietly as you adjusted your sleeping position. He had to cover his mouth to stop himself from moaning out loud.

 

It really said something about himself if you just moving on top of him sent a pulse to his core.

 

Though, he still needed  _more_.

 

He knew it was wrong. You’d been through so much. It was selfish of him to use you like this. But he couldn’t leave himself like this.

 

Slowly, he moved his flesh hand to your back. You didn’t react. He began rubbing his hand up and down to create more heat for himself to enjoy. You seemed to also enjoy it due to your quiet humming.

 

He needed to feel closer. With a painstakingly slow movement, he slipped his hand under the hem of your sweatshirt and undershirt and made contact with the bare skin of your lower back.

 

A pulse quickly shot to his core when he moved his hand up your spine.

 

God, your skin was so soft.

 

Suddenly, you began whimpering. Bucky quickly slipped his hand out and brought it to his forehead.

 

You whipped your head up rapidly and looked Bucky directly in the eyes. You then looked down to see yourself on top of him and quickly scrambled off him, your chest heaving with difficulty.

 

“Wh-Why was I—“ You stammered but cleared your throat soon after. “D-did you touch me?”

 

Bucky’s eyes went wide as he sat up. “What? No. No, never. I-I— It was just your back. I swear. That’s all.”

 

You seemed to sigh in relief as your breathing subsided. You placed your face in your own hands and shook your head lightly. He could hear you begin sobbing.

 

_Shit_.

 

Bucky moved to sit in front of you. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never do it again. I was just being selfish and not thinking of myself. Please,” he reached for both of your hands and brought them into his. Your tear-filled eyes looked to his apologetic ones. “I’m sorry.”

 

You sniffed and wiped your tears with your sleeve. “I-it’s okay. Just, please, i-if you w-want something,  _please_  ask.”

 

“I will. I promise. I don’t even want anything from you. You’ve already given me enough.”

 

You nodded and wiped your tears again.

 

You both sat on the bed, staring anywhere except in each other’s eyes.

 

Bucky felt as if he hadn’t apologized enough. He felt as if he needed to do something more than just say a few words to win your trust back because, at this very moment, you were all he had and he was all you had. He would never be able to help you if the trust between you two was broken.

 

For now, Bucky just had to deal with the weight of the guilt on his shoulders.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soon after the tension in the small motel room had slipped, Bucky helped you apply some new bandages to your hips.

 

You sensed he was moving extra carefully this time, almost not touching you.

 

You knew it was because of your overreaction to what had happened. You hadn’t meant to cry. It just that all the memories of Brian touching you had come to mind and you couldn’t stop yourself. You now knew how terrible he felt about it and you didn’t know what to do. For now, you stayed quiet.

 

As soon as Bucky was finished, he pulled down the hem of your shirt, mentioned something about getting dressed, and hurried into the bathroom to fix his own bandaging.

 

You quickly got dressed and cleaned up the other clothes around the room, even Bucky’s. You gathered everything and brought it to the car. You hoped the car would start if Bucky hot-wired it again. It would be a pain to take the bus.

 

Bucky soon exited the motel room, returned the key and got into the car.

 

You looked at him. “Will it start?”

 

“Hopefully.” He replied and began hot-wiring the car.

 

You both sighed in relief when you heard the car sputter to a start.

 

“You hungry?” Bucky asked.

 

You nodded.

 

“‘Kay, good. The receptionist said there was a small restaurant down the road.” He switched gears with the joystick and pressed on the gas. “Let’s go.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sun was at its highest when you got to the restaurant. It was a small family-owned building named Hunter’s.

 

When you walked in the door, a big man with pale skin and a receding hairline greeted you.

 

“Welcome to Hunter’s.” His southern accent was obvious as he spoke. “Table for two?”

 

“Yep.” You replied.

 

The man looked to Bucky for a second. He lowered the rim of his baseball hat to cover his eyes.

 

“Follow me, then.”

 

The man took you two to a booth near the front windows of the restaurant. A waitress quickly came around soon after to take your order.

 

As you looked out the giant windows to the passing cars, Bucky spoke up.

 

“I know it’s none of my business but, what are you going to do about school?”

 

You paused. You hadn’t really thought of it since at that had happened. You were so focused on getting away from your stepfather that you forgot.

 

“I, uh, hadn’t really thought about it. I don’t have anything important going on. It’s just Grad in a week.”

 

Bucky’s brows rose. “Isn’t your high school Graduation important?”

 

“No, not really. I already completed my exams and all Graduation is, is a celebration of making it through high school. All I need is my diploma, and I can always go back to school and get it.”

 

“Hmm. Have you ever thought of college or something?”

 

“...No.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I’ve  _thought_  about it, obviously. I’ve just never considered it because I never thought Brian would let me.”

 

“Oh.”

 

You sulked onto the table as you memories of Brian laughing at the fact that you wanted a career in science.

 

‘You’re way to dense to be a scientist,’ he’d say. And though your grades said otherwise, Brian’s words would stick to you like honey. No matter how much hope you had for yourself, he was the one who always put you down until you felt like you were buried up to your neck in his negativity. It was so unbearable, you decided not to peruse any type of higher education.

 

Bucky broke you from your dejected thoughts for a moment and placed his right hand over yours.

 

“If you ever wanted to go to college or something, I think you could do it.”

 

Tears pricked your eyes and you chuckled. “Thank you.”

 

Right then, the waitress came around with your orders and you and Bucky sat eating in blissful and calming silence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After you both had finished eating, Bucky had insisted on paying. You insisted _you_ pay because he had paid for the room. And after a few minutes of banter, you won and used the money from Brian’s safe to pay for lunch.

 

As you finished the coffee you had gotten, you looked up at the TV currently playing the news.

 

You almost spit out your drink as you realized what was on screen.

 

A picture of you from your 17th birthday day and a caption of your full name was placed beside a blurry picture of a man who was wearing a red baseball cap and a leather jacket. The caption of the news report read, ‘17-YEAR-OLD GIRL MISSING. POSSIBLY KIDNAPPED.’

 

The screen switched to an interview with a report and...

 

_Brian._

 

“What happened according to you, sir?” The reporter asked.

 

“This big guy came barraging into my house and took my sweet daughter. I tried to defend us with my pistol but the guy had a metal hand! He ended up snatching away my baby. Please, ya need to find her.”

 

The screen switched back to the studio were the news anchor explained the ‘kidnapping’ in more detail.

 

“Police believe the prime suspect for the kidnapping is the Winter Solider, the man who wreaked havoc last year in Washington. If you have any information or have seen anything regarding the kidnapping, please call the number on screen.”

 

You couldn’t believe it. That garbage human, your stepfather, had actually gone to the police and told them you were kidnapped. What a dick. He knew fully well that you ran away from him. But he was also a manipulative shit because of the police found you, they’d bring you right back to him. You shivered at the thought.

 

You tried not to looked panicked as you got Bucky’s attention by tapping his arm.

 

“Hmm?”

 

You pointed with your head at the TV.

 

He looked back but quickly turned his head back to you.

 

A waitress coming around with a kettle full of coffee stopped in front of your table.

 

“Would ya’ll like any refills?” She smiled at Bucky. He just lowered his hat and sunk into his seat.

 

“No, thanks.”

 

She looked at you. You lowered your head also and murmured a, ‘No, thank you.’

 

“No problem.” She said.

 

You looked up to her as she walked away. She had a skeptically look on her face as she stared back at you.

 

“We need to leave.” Bucky whispered.

 

You nodded, chugged back the rest of your lukewarm coffee and walked out the door with Bucky.

 

Bucky hot-wired the car quickly and the car roared as he sped out of the parking lot.

 

“Where are we going?” You asked.

 

“Away. Far from here.”

 

You sat back in your seat. “Oh.”

 

“If the police think you’ve been kidnapped, we need to get out of this area. You okay with that?”

 

“Yeah. I’m fine with it. I got nothing here anyway.”

 

Bucky nodded. “Good.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A picture of the Winter Soldier stared back at Steve as he watched the TV with wide eyes.

 

“Yo, Steve. What’s taking so long?” He heard Sam call from the other room.

 

He didn’t respond. All he did was stare at the TV as he processed the words on the screen.

 

Steve didn’t believe it. He  _wouldn’t_  believe it. He could never believe Bucky would do something like that after the way he had saved him from drowning in a Washington.

 

Steve had seen the Bucky he knew in his eyes. He had seen his best friend.

 

“Steve, I wanna get there before Romanoff—“ Sam started as he walked into the room but paused when he saw the caption on the TV. 

 

Sam stood beside Steve and crossed his arms. “You believe that?”

 

Steve shook his head as he covered his mouth. He sighed. “I need to find him.”

 

“What?” Sam’s arms uncrossed as he looked to Steve in disbelief. 

 

“I have to find him, Sam. I know him. I saw the look in his eyes. He wouldn’t do something like this. There’s got to be another reason.”

 

“Hmm. I’ll help you.”

 

“No, you don’t need to.”

 

Sam chuckled and put an arm around Steve’s shoulder. “I’m not asking. When do we start?”

 

Steve smiled at his friend. “Tomorrow.”

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

The small bell rang as Steve and Sam walked into the quaint restaurant named Hunter’s. 

 

“Hi! Welcome to Hunter’s. Table for two, gentlemen?” A large man greeted them with a big smile. 

 

“No, thank you.” Steve said. “We need to talk to your staff about any information you may have relating to the recent kidnapping on the news.”

 

“Oh.” The large man’s eyes widened. He leaned closer to Steve and whispered. “Are y’all the police?”

 

“No,” Sam chimed in. “But if we’re not hearing anything important in the next few minutes, I’m sure your wife will have something to say to you if she finds out about the prostitute you’ve been seeing for the past week.” 

 

The large man visibly paled. “Becca!” He called to a waitress. 

 

A petite brunette quickly ran to the front of the restaurant. “Yes, Hunter?”

 

“Why don’t you tell these fine gentlemen what you saw yesterday?”

 

“Why? Are they the po-po?”

 

As Sam opened his mouth to threaten the girl, Steve pushed him behind him and smiled to her. “No, we aren’t, but we’d appreciate anything you have.”

 

“Oh. Well, I did see something. How ‘bout y’all sit at the bar. I’ll fix y'all something then tell ya.”

 

Steve chuckled. “That would be nice, thank you.”

 

Becca smiled and lead them to the bar. After being seated, she poured the men some coffee. 

 

“Would you mind telling us now?” Steve asked as Becca set down some milk and sugar. “We’re in a bit of a rush.”

 

“Oh, sure.” Becca came around the bar and sat next to Steve. 

 

“So, what happened was this big hunky lookin’ man walked in with this young lookin’ girl—“

 

“Sorry to interrupt, but how young?” Sam asked. 

 

“Oh, she looked around my age— I’m eighteen.” 

 

Sam’s face visibly contorted in confusion. 

 

“So, anyway, Hunter said the man looked real suspicious and shady while the girl was just quiet. Hunter also said the man only wore a glove on one hand which is very unusual. He sat them at a table and I took their orders. They looked perfectly normal as they talked. They even were holdin’ hands at one point. It was mighty cute.”

 

_What?_    “Did you happen to hear anything they were saying?” Steve asked. 

 

“Not, really.”

 

Steve sighed. 

 

“—But I did hear a couple o' things.”

 

Steve’s head perked up at that. 

 

“What sorts of things?”

 

“I don’t know, something like how the girl was sad about not goin’ to college. But then the man said something along the lines of, ‘I think you could do it,’ and she was happy again.”

 

“...Okay. Anything else?”

 

“Well, after they was done, they looked mighty freaked as I went to refill their drinks. That’s when I noticed the news on the TV and they looked just like the people on there so I went to tell Hunter. But they left in such a rush and sped outta the parking lot.”

 

“Which direction?”

 

“East. Down Sunrise street, I reckon.”

 

“Thank you for your time, Miss.” Steve stood up quickly, lowered his hat to her and walked out of the restaurant.

 

As soon as Steve and Sam stepped into the car, Steve sighed. 

 

Sam looked at his best friend. “What do you think?” 

 

“I don’t think the girl was kidnapped. I think they’re running.”

 

“Yeah, no shit. Barnes is basically a fugitive.”

 

Steve shook his head. “No, I mean— they were running from something before. Something before the whole kidnapping fiasco.”

 

Sam hummed. “If so, what do you think from?”

 

Steve started the car. “That’s what I need to find out.”

 

“How?”

 

“By talking to the girl’s father.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last night’s rest wasn’t the best since you and Bucky had to sleep in the car. Bucky being accused of kidnapping was starting to have a real effect on your sleep. 

 

Since Bucky was a fugitive, you couldn’t sleep in a motel and he left the AC on all night so you wouldn’t be baked alive in the car. Bad move, because the battery ended up dying by morning. 

 

Thankfully, some forgetful person left their car keys in their car. 

 

By midday, you arrived at a large shopping mall where Bucky parked. 

 

“Why’d we stop here?” You asked. 

 

“We need disguises.”

 

“Oh. Like makeovers?”

 

“No, we don’t have time. Someone could easily spot us and call the police. We need something quick.”

 

“Hmm. We could get some new clothes? And maybe sunglasses. But I know a way to change your appearance right now.”

 

“How?”

 

“Come here.”

 

Bucky walked around to your side. He stood in front of you like a towering building. This wouldn’t work. 

 

“Sit done on the curb.”

 

Confused, Bucky plopped himself down and you stood behind him. 

 

You took off his hat a gave it to him. He flinched when you ran your hands through his hair. It left long and silky as you combed it with your fingers. You swore you could hear Bucky hum quickly as you did. You grabbed an elastic of your wrist and tried your best. The hairstyle actually turned out to not look like total shit.

 

You walked in front of Bucky and inspected your work. His hair was tied up neatly in a low, loose bun. Now that you looked at it more, it worked for him. “There. All done.”

 

Bucky looked in the reflection in the car window. “Thanks.” 

 

He was about to put his hat back on when you stopped him abruptly. “Don’t put on the hat. You’ll ruin it.”

 

Bucky chuckled and smiled. “Okay, then.”

 

You grabbed some cash from Brian’s wad of bills and walked into the mall with Bucky next to you. 

 

“Ya know, there’s another way to alter your appearance.” You chimed. 

 

“How?” Bucky asked inquisitively. 

 

“You could smile more.”

 

“What?”

 

“You always look like a different person when you smile. At least, to me you do.” 

 

You smiled as you looked up to him, though he turned his head quickly. Though you could swear you saw the faintest blush on his cheeks. 

 

You first went into the men’s section of a cheap looking store and began to pick out clothes for Bucky. 

 

“What size are you?”

 

“I don’t know. I just choose what fits.”

 

You rolled your eyes. “You look to be a medium or large.” 

 

You took a few items off the rack and handed them to him. “Here. Try these on.”

 

He sighed but followed you to the fitting rooms. 

 

The clothes you had chosen were simple but good looking enough so it didn’t make him look homeless. Though, one outfit had him conflicted. 

 

“I can’t wear this.”

 

You chuckled. “Why not?”

 

“You know why.” You could hear the annoyance in his voice. 

 

“Could I at least see it?”

 

He sighed. “Fine. Come in here.”

 

He opened the fitting room door slightly so you could slide in. 

 

When you turned around to his outfit, your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. 

 

He wore a tight, short-sleeve navy button-down covered in daisy’s that cling to his muscles, along with taut skinny jeans that hugged his legs like a dream. 

 

“I can’t wear this.”

 

Bucky’s voice snapped you out of your trace. 

 

You nodded. “Yeah, definitely not.”

 

“I don’t even know why I tried it on.” He muttered just as you were about to leave the stall. 

 

“I think it looks good.” You said, then promptly exited, missing slight redness of Bucky’s face. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After an hour of shopping, you were both able to get a few outfits that made you look less suspicious, along with a baseball hat and a pair of sunglasses for both of you. 

 

Bucky was currently rocking a black long-sleeve with a black leather jacket, gray khakis along with some black leather boots and of course his glove. You picked out everything except for the jacket, he had picked it. Though, you had to give him _some_ credit because it worked for him. 

 

You kept it simple with your blue jeans, thin sweatshirt, and running shoes. 

 

Even though they weren’t really disguised, your new clothing did enough to not draw attention to yourselves. 

 

Bucky put all the bags into the trunk and got into the car with you. 

 

There was a silence before he spoke. “We need somewhere to go. It’s not safe for us to be sleeping in the car.”

 

You thought for a minute until you were reminded of the farmhouse your mother’s friend had. You used to visit it every Winter break when your mother was alive. 

 

_ When Mom was alive... _

 

“ I have a place. A farmhouse just a few hours outside the city. It belongs to my mother’s friend. She only visits it in the Winter so it should be vacant.”

 

Bucky smiled. “Sounds great. Ready?”

 

You nodded, and he started the car. 

 

 

 

 

 

After what felt like forever, you finally arrived at the small farmhouse at dusk, though you had stopped to make a grocery run for food. 

 

You remembered how they always left a spare key under a fake potted plant, so you didn’t have to break in. 

 

After bringing everything into the house, you collapsed onto the couch and Bucky sat beside you. 

 

“Can I lay in your lap?” You asked him.

 

“Wh-what?” He seemed startled. 

 

“I mean like, my head.”

 

“...Sure.”

 

You adjusted your position to lay your head in his lap. It almost seemed like the perfect fit. 

 

A sudden urge to sleep came over you. You yawned and your eyes slowly began to flutter shut. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support! Really keeps me writing :)


	14. Chapter 14

  
 

_“Bucky.”_

_Bucky looked to his right. You sat beside him, a hint of neediness and lust in your eyes._

_“Bucky. I need you.”_

_Your hands roamed over his suddenly bare chest as you moved your legs to straddle his lap._

_“Please.”_

_Bucky moaned when you pressed a kiss to his neck. As your kisses travelled down his chest to his abdomen, you sank to your knees._

_Bucky’s semi turned solid as he realized what was happening._

_You smirked as you undid his belt buckle. He groaned when you cupped his cock through his briefs._

  
_Just as you were about to take his cock in your hands, he woke up._  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Bucky’s heartbeat was loud in his ear as he focused on breathing.

 

He looked around the living room of the house. The morning sun peered through the curtains, casting shadows along the bookshelf as the wind blew them. Then he looked down. 

 

Your head laid in his lap as you soundly slept. Right next to your head, was the clear outline of the hard-on in his pants. 

 

His cheeks heated up in an instant.

He ran a hand down his face as he groaned.

This was wrong. This was _so wrong_.  
  
Bucky shouldn’t be thinking of you like that. Even though it had happened in his dream and not real life, he should not have this feeling. It wasn’t like he could control his dream, though. They all came from his subconscious.  
  
Still. It was wrong.  
  
You were seventeen for God’s sake. And after everything you’d been through... Bucky felt disgusted with his own mind.  
  
He had to get up and deal with the situation. Problem was, were lying on him.  
  
Slowly, he tried to move your head off of his lap. Even though you moved slightly, Bucky was able to place your head back on to the couch.  
  
After, he sped walked to the nearest bathroom and dealt with the problem the only way he knew.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Your head felt groggy as you woke up that morning. You rubbed your eyes and looked around the living room as you sat up. The curtain’s had been pushed open, letting the light of day seep into the living room. You looked behind you to the kitchen and the hallway. Bucky was nowhere to be seen.  
  
You stretched before walking around the main floor of the house looking for him. You still couldn’t find him.  
  
Next, you checked upstairs. Weirdly, the door to the master bedroom was open. Reluctantly, you peeked around the corner. Your eyes went wide and you froze over what you saw.  
  
Bucky stood, back facing you, half-naked in the middle of the bedroom as he rummaged through the shopping bags for clothes. He only wore a pair of black briefs.  
  
All you could do was stare at the way his back muscles moved as he put some jeans on. How could someone look that good in just jeans?  
  
You looked him up and down but your eyes managed to land on his left arm. The metal one.  
  
You supposed you had gotten used to it by now. It was just like any other. Except it was metal. And it was probably different from his original— never mind, it’s different.  
  
You sighed. _I really shouldn’t be spying on him like this._ It was an invasion of his privacy. Everyone deserves privacy.  
  
You shook your head as you left your position. Though, when you took one step in the wrong place, the floorboard creaked under your weight and you winced.  
  
Bucky’s head instantly whipped around to see you looking back him with an embarrassed look on your face. He called your name in question.  
  
Your eyes darted to his chest as he looked at you with confusion.  
  
“Uh-uh, s-sorry!” You said quickly then dashed out of his view.  
  
You practically ran down the stairs, plopped face first into the couch and groaned quietly.  
  
God, why’d you stare for so long? Now he’s gonna think your a psycho or something.  
  
Your body tensed when you heard Bucky’s footsteps down the stairs. He called your name as he looked around. When he found you on the couch he called your name again. “What are you doing?”  
  
You didn’t answer as you tried your best to sink your face deeper into the couch.  
  
“Okay...” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Is something wrong?”  
  
You shook your head.  
  
“No? Then why aren’t you talking?”  
  
No reply.  
  
“I’m seriously worried now. Did I do something?”  
  
Your head instantly lifted from the couch. “No. No, no. Nothing is wrong.” You sighed and sat up straight. “I’m just acting weird. Sorry.”  
  
Bucky exhaled in relief and you noticed he had put on a shirt: a red long-sleeve one he had picked out for himself yesterday.  
  
You sunk your face into your hands and rested in your knees. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Bucky sat down beside you. “For what?”  
  
“For spying on you. I’m sorry.” The awful memory of the time you spied on Brian and your mother popped into your head. You had been only 11 at the time. They had been arguing for an hour at that point. Concerned for your mother, you watched as Brian had back slapped your mother, causing her to fall to the floor. She had a giant gash on her cheek from the ring on Brian’s finger. You gasping was enough for Brian’s focus to turn to you. He threatened to beat the living shit out of you, but your mother had been so courageous as she told Brian to leave you alone. Unfortunately, he beat your mother instead and after she laid on the ground in her room, looking lifeless, he came into your room and slapped you also, threatening to do worse if you told anyone. Tears fell from your eyes when you repeatedly said, ‘I promise.’ He had left without saying a word. That was the moment your life took a turn of the worse.  
  
Your cheeks were soaked now, as tears streamed down them.  
  
Bucky put an arm around your shoulder and leaned your body against his. You cried into your hands as he embarrassed you with both arms. You curled up next to him as he gently stroked your back.  
  
“Shh.” He whispered. “It’s all okay now. He can’t hurt you anymore. You're safe. We’re safe.”

You sniffled as you wiped your eyes. “No, we’re not.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s gonna find me a-and I won’t be able to get away this time. Y-you’ll probably go to prison and—“

 

Bucky suddenly called your name and placed his hands on your shoulders. “Stop. None of that is gonna happen. Ya know why? Because I’ll always be around, no matter what. I’ll never leave you.”

 

You looked deeply into his eyes and could tell he was telling the truth. That he meant every word of it.

 

“Sweetheart, I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

You enveloped him in a hug, surprising him. “Thank you.” And he hugged you back.

 

After letting go of the best hug you’ve had in ages, you wiped your dried tears and smiled to Bucky. “Thank you, again.”

 

He smiled back. “Anytime. I’m here for you.” He stood up from the couch and rubbed his hands together. “You hungry?”

 

You nodded. “Yeah, a bit.”

 

Bucky helped you to your feet. “Let’s get cooking, then. We didn’t buy all those groceries for nothing. What do you feel like having?”

 

“Something easy. How about canned soup? If that’s alright with you…?”

 

Bucky chuckled. “Yes, it’s alright with me. You don’t need to ask.”

 

You laughed wryly. “Okay. Next time.”

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

“You sure this is the right address?”

 

“Yes, I’m sure Sam. We’re exactly where the file said.”

 

“Okay, then.” Sam knocked loudly on the apartment door.

 

A second later, they knew they were at the right address when Brian’s voice sounded from inside. “Comin’!”

 

The door opened to reveal the man himself. “What do ya want?”

 

“We’ve been sent by the chief of police. We need to ask you some questions about your daughter’s kidnapping.” Steve said.

 

“Didn’t y’all come by a few days ago?”

 

“Yes, but we need to set some things straight,” Sam said sternly.

 

Brian opened the door all the way and let the men in.

 

“Have a seat, gentlemen. Can I getcha anything? A beer maybe?” Brian closed the door and sat opposite of Sam and Steve.

 

Just as Sam was about to bring up his offer of beer and raise his hand, Steve brought his hand down. Sam glared at the Captain.

 

“Could you please explain in detail what went down that night?”

 

“Even though I already did, I guess.” He cleared his throat. “So, me and my daughter were calmly eating dinner at the table when all of a sudden, this giant guy just busts down my door!”

 

Steve immediately knew he was lying. In the original police report, Brian had said that she was in her room when the man came into the apartment.

 

“...After a while, the fight got taken inside my bedroom where he threw me into the dresser. Luckily, I was able to stab him with my extra hunting knife I had stored under it.”

 

Another lie. The report showed that the man had been stabbed with a shard of ceramic glass that likely came from a lamp.

 

“...Then he snatched her right away from my hands as I was trying to protect her. I have to say, that was pretty brave of me.”

 

Sam hummed as he leaned on his hand and narrowed his eyes. “You don’t seem that shaken up about this whole thing. How come?”

 

“Sam.” Steve panned.

 

“No, no. It’s okay. It’s just the way I deal with situations like this. On the outside, I may seem all manly and brave, but I’m actually hurting bad.”

 

“It’s okay. We understand.” Steve comforted. “I’d like to take you up on your offer as we look around if you don’t mind?”

 

“Oh, sure. Go ahead. Though your other cop buddies already took everything mostly.”

 

Steve and Sam walked to your room first and looked around. Steve checked your dresser and was confused when he saw it was empty.

 

“Hey, uh, Brian? Did any of our cop buds take your daughter’s clothes out of the drawers?”

 

“Nope! She was a weird one so she probably did something to her clothes.”

 

Sam checked her desk. It was also empty. Most of the other sentimental stuff had either been taken by the police or someone else.

 

Sam took a peek under the bed. All he could see were dust bunnies and a crumpled piece of paper near the back. Sam grabbed it and was about to show it to Steve before Brian walked into the room with three beer bottles in hand.

 

“Find anything yet?” Brian asked, handing off each bottle.

 

“No. Nothing so far.”

 

“Ah, that’s too bad. Oh, shit. I think a big one is coming. ‘Scuse me, gentlemen.”

 

As soon as the door was shut, Sam pulled out the paper and showed it to Steve. “I think I found something.” He uncrumpled the paper to reveal a message in Morse code and below, the encoded version.

 

“‘Meet me on the rooftop’? Do you think Barnes sent it?”

 

“That could be the case since his apartment was right next to this wall,” Steve said.

Both of the men walked out of the room into the kitchen. Something out of the corner of Stev’s eye caught his attention and he walked towards it. Stuffed under the cupboards was another crumpled wad of paper. Steve pulled it out.

 

“Find something?” Sam asked.

 

“I don’t know, but I do know that’s a weird place to keep a wad of paper.”

 

Steve uncrumpled the paper and his eyes widened.

 

~~_Dear_ ~~

~~_From James,_ ~~

_Hi._

 

 _If you’re reading this, I apologize in advance._ ~~_I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry._~~

_~~If you’re reading this,~~ __I’m leaving. I know I should have told you sooner._ ~~_I just couldn’t bear to see you sad and cry again._~~

~~_I’m the Winter_~~ _ ~~Soldier~~. _ _I can’t tell you why I’m leaving. Just know I can’t help it. It’s completely beyond my control._ _~~Bad things might happen to you if I stay~~. _

 

 _If I could, I would let you come with me. But I would regret that decision if ~~you died~~ something_ _happened to you. I ~~love~~ care_ _about you too much. It would be for the best if I left._

 

~~_I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I’m so sorry._ ~~

 

_I’m sorry._

 

~~_Bucky_ ~~

_James_

 

Steve stared at the letter until the sound of a toilet flushing reached his ears. “We need to leave.”

 

Sam nodded and they headed out the door before Brian could see them.

  
  
  


“Steve,” Sam said as the Captain sped down the road. “Steve. Are you okay?”

 

He didn’t answer.

 

“Steve!”

 

Steve pulled over to the side of the road and slammed the brakes. “He’s okay.” He muttered.

 

“What? Who?”

 

“Bucky. He’s okay.” A single tear slid down his cheek. “Well, not fully but… He’s not with HYDRA anymore. That means he’s somewhat safe.”

 

Sam sighed and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You do know what this means though, right?”

 

Steve reciprocated the sigh. “Yes.”

 

“Good. Then let’s go find ourselves some runaways.”

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

Today had to have been the hottest day of the month. 

 

You were sweating buckets as you laid across the couch. You weren’t very comfortable with wearing anything too small or revealing, so you suck with a plain loose t-shirt and jean shorts that stopped mid-thigh. 

 

Meanwhile, Bucky had fully taken off his shirt and borrowed a pair of shorts from the dresser in the master bedroom. 

 

What was worse is that the air conditioner had broken a couple of summers ago, according to one of the bills the littered the table when you had first arrived. 

 

“Hey, Bucky?” You asked. 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Do you think you could get an electric fan from in the basement. It’s basically looks like a small wind turbine.”

 

He chuckled as he stood up. “It’s okay. You don’t have to describe it. I know what they look like. Where do I find it?”

 

“It should be in the small room in the back.”

 

He nodded and stretched and you couldn’t help but stare at his glossy cheat coated with sweat. Then he headed downstairs. 

 

Meanwhile, you looked for other ways to cool off. In a minute you found yourself at the back of the house. Bored, you looked outside and to your shock, saw a pool. How had you forgotten about it?

 

Immediately, you opened the door and walked to the edge. Slowly, you removed its cover and below sat perfectly cool water. You practically moaned in delight when you sunk your legs into the water as you sat on the poolside. 

 

You were in such a relaxed state that you barely noticed when Bucky came outside. 

 

“There was a pool here this whole time? Did you forget to mention that or something?”

 

“Haha, no. I just forgot about it.”

 

He laughed. 

 

Bucky walked over to the deep-end of the pool and dove in gracefully, but ended up splashing you in the process. 

 

“Hey!” You whined when he came to the surface. “You splashed me.”

 

Bucky chuckled as he pushed his wet hair out of his face and leaned on the wall next to you. “Why don’t you come in?”

 

“It’s okay. I’m good here,” you said. “Besides, there are no swimsuits in any of the drawers.” 

 

“You can just swim in your undergarments.” You instantly blushed and looked the other direction as you tried not to think about Bucky seeing you in just your underwear and bra. He’d probably just look away from your repelling body. “...Or you could swim in your clothes. Whatever your comfortable with...” Bucky quickly corrected himself, in attempt to make things less awkward. It sorta worked. 

 

You chuckled with embarrassment. “Thanks but, um, I can’t swim.” You buried your face in your hands. “Oh, this is so embarrassing. Everyone my age should be able to swim by now.”

 

Bucky took your hands away from your face as he swam in front of you. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” He smiled at you and it was filled with so much warmth you couldn’t help but smile back. “Though, could I ask why?”

 

“Oh...” Bucky’s hands rubbed yours and it instantly calmed you. “Um, I can’t swim because... I never learned how. Brian was always so stingy on what he spent on me. There was no point in asking for something useless like that. Though, I did try once. That need how all our arguments ended...”

 

You remembered the time when your mother had tried to sign you up for swimming lessons. Brian had found out and yelled at your mother for paying for something ‘so useless on that failure of a daughter she had’. That was the last time you’d ever tried to sign up for any after school activity. 

 

Bucky distracted you from your thoughts before you could weep silent tears again. “I can teach ya.”

 

“What?” 

 

“Well, I mean, I’m not the best at teaching people things but, I could try. If you wanted to.” His smile was filled with so much excitement that you couldn’t say no to him. 

 

“O-okay.”

 

“Great!” He cheered. “First, you gotta come into the water. Can you do that or do you need help?”

 

“I think I’ll need some help.” You admitted. 

 

“Okay, put your hands on my shoulders.” You did as told and could feel Bucky flinched when your right hand made contact with the metal of his shoulder. “Could I touch your waist? To help lower you in.”

 

You nodded and Bucky gently placed each hand above your hips. You could tell he was being considerate as he lightly held you and you appreciated it. 

 

“Ready?” He asked. You nodded. 

 

Slowly, Bucky slid you into the pool. First your legs, then your torso, until the water stopped at your chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, you stood in the shallow end of a pool. 

 

It brought back memories of your time at this farmhouse. You never did swim with the other children. You had always feared you would drown because of your lack of swimming lessons. Luckily, your mother kept you company while everyone else had their fun. But that was yours and her fun. And it was the best fun you’d ever have. 

 

You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck for support since he had unconsciously moved to the centre of the pool. 

 

“Y’know we’re in the shallow end? You can stand.” He said. 

 

“O-oh...” Your cheeks flared up. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” he laughed. “You’re new to this so take your time.”

 

When you let go of Bucky, he already missed your warmth. 

 

“Take my hands.” He said. 

 

You took both hands. 

 

“Now, start kicking.”

 

You fluttered your feet in the water like you’d seen all the other children do. You began to move forward as Bucky lead you around the pool. 

 

“I’m doing it. Oh, my God.” You said smiling. “I’m actually swimming.”

 

Bucky laughed. Your excitement was so contagious he couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, you are!”

 

After a few minutes of kicking and Bucky giving you a few pointers on using your arms, he suggested that you try swimming on your own. 

 

Immediately, you declined. 

 

“Aw, c’mon. You’re really catching on. I know you’ll be able to do it.” Bucky reassured you. 

 

“No. Bucky, I can’t.” He couldn’t help your stubbornness. Whenever Brian got the chance, he always told you you’d fail at it. You knew you wouldn’t be able to do it. 

 

“No, no. I know that face.” Bucky lifted your chin to face him. “I know that you’re thinking of that asshole of a father and how’s he’d say you wouldn’t be able to do it. But since I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve discovered that your amazing and when you put your mind to something, you do it. And I know that this is one of those times.”

 

You were so moved by his speech that you just had to try. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

 

“Great! Okay then, you stay there and I’ll go to the other end of the pool. Remember how a taught you to move your arms.” He said as he backed into the wall on the other poolside. 

 

You exhaled deeply and looked at the distance between you and Bucky. It was only a couple feet. You could do it. Nothing Brian said mattered. Bucky’s words were the ones that mattered. You could do it. 

 

With one finale breath, you began doggy paddling to the other side where Bucky awaited. With each stroke, you felt even more tired but Bucky’s words of encouragement gave you the strength to pull through. 

 

_Just a few inches away..._

 

When you reached the other side you collapsed onto the man in front of you. 

 

He laughed as he rubbed your back to soothe your rapidly beating heart. “You did it!”

 

“I did it.” You muttered. You almost couldn’t believe it. “I did it! Haha!”

 

“How do you feel?”

 

“Relieved. And like I have so much energy right now.”

 

“That’s the adrenaline rush.”

 

“Oh.” You chuckled. You embraced Bucky in a hug and it surprised him when you lightly squeezed. “Thank you.”

 

Bucky felt bliss as he hug you back. “You’re the one who did all the work. But still, your welcome.”

 

At this moment, the only thing Bucky focused on was you. Your slow breathing. The smile he knew you had plastered on your beautiful face. The feeling of your intoxicatingly warm body on him. The way your breasts squished against his hard chest. It all felt like too much. 

 

He didn’t think as he gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. He instantly regretted it when you pulled away from him quickly. 

 

“I-I’m getting a bit cold. I’m gonna head inside.” You stuttered as you exited the pool. 

 

He knew you were lying. It was a blazingly hot day. There was no way you’d be cold. It was because of him and his ‘not thinking before you act’ head. In that instance, he had lead with the wrong one. 

 

He submerged himself under the water completely before groaning. He stayed in the water for a few extra minutes before following you in. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As you dried off from your shower, all your mind could think of was how Bucky had kissed you. Well, your forehead, anyway. 

 

Maybe you were overreacting. It was just an act of affection. Lots of people kiss the ones they care about on their forehead. Like parents do to their children. But you didn’t think of Bucky as a parental figure. Far from that actually. He was just your friend, who you’d grown to be quite fond off now. It was just a friendly gesture between friends. 

 

You were just over thinking it, like you did with everything. 

 

You sighed as you got dressed. Whatever it had been, it was best to just ignore it. It wasn’t like it was a big deal or anything. 

 

After combing the tangles out of your hair, you headed downstairs, where you found Bucky. He hadn’t seen you yet as he leaned against the counter in the kitchen, tapping his foot anxiously and rested his chin on his hands. You noticed he had changed out of his swimwear into a pair of sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. You noticed now, he seemed to be more comfortable now with you seeing his metal prosthetic. It made you happy that you made him feel safe, just like he did to you. 

 

“Bucky?” You called as you entered the kitchen. “I—“

 

“I’m sorry!” He blurted out. 

 

It took you aback. 

 

“What I mean is...” He said as he approached you cautiously. “I’m sorry for... doing what I did. It wasn’t okay if me. I already said I would ask you for anything and yet I’ve already broken that promise. God, I’m sorry.”

 

“Umm, i-it’s okay. I forgive you.” You awkwardly rubbed your arm as you avoided eye contact with him. 

 

A few silent seconds passed before you broke it. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

 

“Sure.” He eagerly accepted, as if he was a equally pleased that the silence had been broken. 

 

Soon, you both sat on the couch as you attempted watched Pirates of the Caribbean without falling asleep from your tiring day. 

 

“Man, movies have changed so much since the 40s.” Bucky muttered. 

 

You yawned as you nodded in agreement. 

 

“This movie almost looks real—“ Bucky said but flinched when your arm touched his metal one. 

 

“Oh, sorry.” You said. 

 

“It’s okay.” Bucky said. “It’s not like it bothers me.”

 

You hummed. “You could feel it?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Did... did it feel warm?”

 

“I.. I couldn’t tell.” 

 

“Can you tell the difference between hot and cold?”

 

“No. I only feel pressure on it.” He sighed. 

 

You grabbed an ice cube from the drink you had and placed it in his hand. “You can’t tell that’s cold?”

 

“No. I only feel it’s weight.”

 

“Hmm...” 

 

“What are you trying to do?” He laughed. 

 

“I’m doing a test.”

 

“Even though I just told you I can’t feel any temperature?”

 

You shh’d him and he chuckled and he wiped his wet hand on the couch. 

 

You took his metal hand into yours and inspected. The detailing of the plates was very precise. Probably the best of its kind. No less for HYDRA. 

 

“Can you feel this?” You said as you took his hand in yours and linked your fingers in his. 

 

Under the dimly lit room, you could see the faintest hint of a blush in his cheeks. “No. But, I remember what it feels like. So, I can imagine what it feels like.”

 

“That’s sad. Hopefully, one day you’ll be able to get an upgrade or something and you’ll be able to feel warmth again.”

 

_Only if it came from you_ , he thought. How he wished to know what it felt like to feel the warmth of your hand in his. For now, he settled. 

 

“Yeah. Maybe one day...”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The movie finished and Bucky already knew you had fallen asleep. But he couldn’t let you sleep on the couch again. 

 

He called your name softly as he rocked your sleeping self. “Wake up. You gotta get to bed.”

 

You moaned quietly as you waved his hand away. “No. Sleep here.”

 

Bucky chuckled. “I can’t let you sleep on the couch again.”

 

“I don’t wanna get up...” 

 

“Then how will you move?”

 

“Mmm. Carry me, then.”

 

Bucky blinked in surprise. “What?”

 

You rolled over on your back and placed a hand over your chest. “Please?”

 

As Bucky could not resist the cute puppy dog eyes you gave him, he scooped you up with ease and headed up the stairs. 

 

You buried your head in Bucky’s hair as he walked. “Mmm, you smell good.”

 

He almost tripped as he had to stop to process what he just heard. 

 

“I-I had a shower.” That had to be the most stupidest response ever. 

 

You just chucked and he could feel the vibration of your chest on his. 

 

He walked into the closest bedroom he could find and placed you gently on the bed. When he went to leave though, the grip you had on his neck caused him to fall onto the bed. Luckily, he caught himself in time so you didn’t become a pancake under his weight. 

 

Only now did Bucky realize the position he was in. You laid half-asleep under him as both his hands were placed on either side of your head. 

 

He noticed the way your shirt rode up your waist, exposing just a hint of your stomach. He noticed that with each breath, your chest rose up and down at a steady speed. 

 

He couldn’t help but imagine kissing you at that very moment.

 

But, that would be selfish if him. He couldn’t do that to you. So, he just got comfortable as he laid down beside you. 

 

“Bucky?” You whispered. 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Can we, um...” You took his hand and held it. 

 

You didn’t have to finish your sentence as he knew exactly what you wanted. You both turned to your side as you guided Bucky’s hand to rest on your stomach. 

 

“Are you sure you’re comfortable? With this?” He asked. 

 

You let out a shaky breath. “Y-yes.” Even though you would have to get used to this, having Bucky cuddle you was the one place where you felt absolutely safe. “Good night.”

 

“Good night, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the supportive comments! I love them 😘😊


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